The Value of Art
by Aerle
Summary: To some, art doesn't belong in a museum. Birthday fic for MyLadyDay
1. Prologue

Happy birthday, MyLadyDay!

Beta'ed by ImperialMint and Vergina-spva

* * *

\- Ten years ago -

Silent as a shadow, he slipped from corner to corner, making sure not to trigger any alarms. Not yet anyway. One would think that after several thefts in the city, the store would take more precautions, yet it was still relatively easy to sneak in. Granted, there were more cameras and security guards, but nothing he couldn't handle.

Marco had been a thief almost his whole life. His parents had died when he was young and he had been stuffed into an orphanage.

Being born a devil's fruit user, or so they called it, meant one had to have one's powers blocked. Now that the government had found out about Marco's, he was no exception. It was illegal to have such powers, even though the wielders couldn't help it themselves – after all, they were born with it – and there had been a piece of seastone implanted at the bottom of his spine. It only had hurt for a little while after the implant had been made and the only thing reminding him of the surgery was a small scar, but he couldn't use his powers anymore. At the time, he had been too young to question it, and he hadn't made the connection that, after the implant had been inserted, he had been sick a lot, while the seastones should have been completely safe and have no side effect.

After his powers had been taken away, he had been adopted by a man, who had turned out to be a thief. He had taught him all kinds of tricks, and when the man had discovered that Marco was a devil's child, the man had insisted that the seastone must be removed.

"The powers aren't bad," he had explained to Marco. "The government is just afraid of them."

According to the government, removing the seastone was impossible and would only result in pain or even death. That was what Marco had been told when he had received the implant, along with a course on why having powers was bad. Marco had only been a child then, and he had believed the government agents. Why would they lie?

The man who had adopted him had let the subject rest after the boy had refused. Marco had started to forget they ever had the conversation and he had been happy. The man slowly started gaining his trust and Marco started to call him Pops. One night, he had woken up with a fever and going downstairs to get his father, he found the man sitting on the floor, meditating. For some reason, Marco had known something special would happen and not wanting to ruin it, he had hidden. Suddenly, the ground had starting to shake, causing Marco to lose his balance and fall over. Pops had opened his eyes and laughed when Marco had tried to hide again.

Marco had been scared. The man he called his father actually had devil's fruit powers? Pops had pulled him into his lap and explained how his powers worked patiently. He answered any question Marco might have and when he was done, he had asked Marco if he remembered which powers he had had. It had been two years since he had received the implant, so of course he did remember. He had told Pops all about how he could turn into a bird and heal his own wounds.

Then Pops asked an unexpected question. He asked if Marco missed his powers. Marco didn't have to think about it long. When his parents were still alive, he had been allowed to run around free, and while he had never fully mastered his powers, he had been able to transform. He had loved to fly, even if he hadn't been allowed by his parents to fly high or long. Now he finally started to understand why. He could have been caught by government agents and forced to give up his powers sooner. But he would have given anything to be able to fly again.

Pops had explained to him that he was one of the few people who was able to remove the seastone implants. The government only told it was impossible to discourage people from trying. It would hurt, he warned Marco, but he would get his powers back. Marco had hesitated, but when Pops had asked if Marco trusted him, he had nodded fiercely.

Pops had set everything up for the removal surgery, but as he wasn't a doctor, he could only get his hands on anaesthetics. Marco had thought he was going to die during the operation. He had passed out, and didn't wake up for several hours. After he did, however, he felt like he was reborn. Pops hadn't lied, he had gotten his powers back.

Marco had been happy living with Pops, but when he had been fifteen, the man was captured and thrown in prison, leaving Marco alone and sad behind.

He had started to live on the street, using the skills the man had taught him to survive. It had started with stealing food and breaking into houses to have a warm and dry place to sleep, but he had then discovered that people had nice stuff that other people liked to buy. He was good at stealing, and he made enough money to consider buying food instead of stealing it, to reduce the risk of getting caught. The night was a good cover for a thief, but the day was less kind and since stores were open during the day, there was a good chance of someone catching him.

Later, Marco had learned how to crack safes and directly take money instead of goods, so he didn't have to sell anymore. It was then that he had begun to rob banks and stores.

His skills hadn't gone unnoticed, and Marco was now wanted by the police, although they didn't know what he looked like. He had always made sure that he made a mask out of the blue flames he controlled when he heard something or someone approaching, covering the upper half of his face. It had been a reflex the first time, and he had feared that it would have attract attention, but instead, the person who caught him had stumbled back in shock, giving him time to flee. After all, people weren't used to devil's fruit users. It became his trademark look. His wanted poster contained a drawing of him including the mask and they called him The Phoenix.

Marco reached the safe without triggering the alarm and took out his stethoscope. The safe was a standard model, and was quite easy to crack. Opening the door, he was pleased to see he had hit the jackpot.

After he put the money in his bag, Marco sighed deeply. This was becoming so boring. He still hadn't been noticed by the security guards. Oh well, at least he had enough money to pay for food for a few months. Making his way back to the window he had come in through, he waved at the security camera, shifted into his bird shape and flew away.

He was already flying high in the sky when the alarm went off and Marco chuckled. Better late than never, right? Leisurely, he flew over the buildings of the city he lived in, looking for a place to land. He wasn't in a hurry, as he loved flying more than anything, but he knew he couldn't keep it up too long. He would only draw attention to himself.

Suddenly, he heard a commotion on the ground. At first, Marco assumed that he had been spotted and braced himself for the bullets that no doubt would whizz past him soon, but when he took a better look, he could see the tumult and shouting had nothing to do with him. On the streets below, he saw a small figure running, followed by a mob.

"Get away from me!" the front figure yelled, the voice of a child. The child turned around while running and threw something at his pursuers. Fire, Marco noted. The boy was a devil's child like him. Which could only mean one thing. The pursuers were government agents, ready to implant the seastone to suppress the child's powers.

Marco remembered how empty he had felt when they had implanted the seastone into him and how much pain he had been in when the device had been removed. He would never wish that upon anyone, certainly not a child.

The boy looked like he was about twelve, and since most children received their implant as infants or toddlers, it could mean either of two things. The first option was that he had had a seastone implant, which was now removed. In that case, Marco was sure the operation to remove the implant would be even more painful than the first time, if it was even possible to remove it twice at all. The second option was that the boy had evading the system and never had an implant and had been running from the law for a long time.

In both scenarios, however, the boy would end up losing his powers and would have to go through enormous pain to have it removed. The boy's life would be ruined. People who received their implant as an infant hardly ever remembered what kind of power they possessed and even Marco had not yet mastered his own powers when they had been taken away from him. This boy, almost hitting puberty, would already be too much used to them.

Marco watched as the boy ran into an alley, reaching a dead end. Panicking, he looked around for a way out as his pursuer approached. Desperately, he started to throw fireballs at them, but they were prepared for resistance and were wearing protective suits.

The Phoenix made a decision.

Swooping down, he placed himself between the government agents and the small boy and transformed back into a human, though he made sure that the flames still covered his eyes.

"Evening, gentlemen," he said calmly. "Why don't you leave the boy alone?"

"It's the Phoenix!" one of them yelled, and another pulled out his gun, which probably contained seastone bullets. Sighing, though on the other hand thrilled because his night had finally become interesting, Marco picked up the boy and helped him climb on his back.

"Wrap your arms around my neck," Marco ordered as he placed him on his back. Much to his surprise, the boy did as he was told. The Phoenix spread out his arms, transforming into his bird-self again, and flew away. The seastone bullets whizzed around him, but didn't make contact.

It was a good thing the boy wasn't too heavy, because aside from the bag with money, Marco had to carry him as well. Still, he didn't regret saving the boy, who had now buried his face in the Phoenix's flaming feathers and was holding on tightly. The longer they flew however, the braver the boy became, and soon the thief heard him laughing excitedly, warming Marco's heart.

Their flight couldn't last forever, though, and in the outskirts of town, Marco landed. He let the slightly disappointed boy get off before transforming into his human self, although he still made sure his mask was in place.

"That was awesome!" The boy's eyes sparkled. Then, he seemed to remember something and he bowed, surprising Marco. "Thank you for saving me, mister!"

The thief smiled and ruffled his hair. Marco then knelt down before him. "Show it to me."

The boy stared at Marco for a moment, but then nodded slowly. He stretched out his arm, flames seemingly licking at his skin, but the thief knew that they didn't hurt the boy. Mesmerised by the sight, he stretched out his hand and let his own blue flames intertwine with the orange ones. The boy seemed as equally captivated as he was.

After what seemed like forever, but in reality were mere minutes, Marco stood up again.

"Well, it seems like we should find a place to sleep, don't you think? Come on, I know a place close by." He held out his hand to the boy.

The boy stared at it warily for a moment, but then grabbed it. Marco led them to an abandoned house, which he often used to hide in. During their walk, he had time to study the boy. As he had thought before, the kid seemed to be about twelve. His clothes were dirty and worn, which made the thief suspect he was either an orphan or had very neglecting parents. The boy's attitude seemed to be that of a kid who spent a lot of time on the street, which would explain why he hadn't yet received a seastone. In the light of the street lanterns and the moon, the thief could see the many freckles that decorated the child's face, making him seem younger than he actually was.

They reached the house, and Marco was about to show him how to break in, but the boy beat him to it. He easily picked the lock, confirming the thief's suspicions that he did in fact lived on the street. The kid ran into the house, and by the time Marco reached the living room, the boy had already made himself comfortable on the couch, stretching and yawning. The man chuckled.

Marco waited until the boy was fast asleep before he slipped out of the house. He left the kid food and a map of the city, hoping that the boy would find his way back to where he came from in the morning.

The boy had been evading the law for twelve years, and Marco could only hope that he wouldn't be caught by the government later on after all. The boy deserved to be free, with his powers intact.


	2. Chapter 1

"Oh man, the Phoenix has struck again!" Ace exclaimed as he practically pushed the paper in his colleague's face. "He is so good, no one even saw him!"

"Give me that!" Usopp grabbed the newspaper and started to read. "Ace, this is art theft. The Phoenix just robs banks and stuff," he said, frowning.

"Don't you see? That's just it! Nobody will suspect him for stealing a piece of art. But he can, because he's that good." The freckled man couldn't help but heave a sigh.

Usopp rolled his eyes. "Of course _you _would think it's him. You're obsessed with this guy!"

"He has been robbing banks and stores for ten years and no one even knows what he looks like. He is that good." Ace chewed on his pencil. "I'm gonna find out who he is and tell the world!"

"Er, you know you're just doing a work placement, right?" Usopp said carefully. "We only run errands, bring coffee and such. They'll never allow you to pursue such a big story."

Ace smirked. "They never have to know." He took a device out of his bag. "Do you know what this is? It's a police radio," he continued without waiting for an answer. "As soon as he strikes, I'll know it too."

"How did you get this?" Usopp asked, wide-eyed.

The freckled man shrugged. "I borrowed it?"

His friend groaned. "You're gonna get in so much trouble."

"Not if I get the story of the century."

"You're crazy. And obsessed. Just because he saved you once doesn't mean he'll just let you ruin his career!" Usopp shook his head.

Ace rolled his eyes. "He didn't 'save' me. He made sure I remained a monster for longer than needed. Fortunately, that has been taken care of."

Absentmindedly, he felt at the scar where the seastone was implanted at the base of his spine. He had gotten it a few weeks after the Phoenix had interfered, when Ace was causing trouble and making bonfires.

At first, he had missed his powers a lot. He had been twelve when it had happened, older than most people when they received their implant. It had been explained to him why it was better this way. He was a devil's child, and by blocking his powers, the demon inside of him would be suppressed, allowing him to lead a normal, healthy life. He knew many people with an implant like his, and they weren't looked down upon by society, although it wasn't common to talk about having an implant. Only the people who refused to get help and kept using their powers were the ones to look out for. People with powers were dangerous, a threat to the government and civilians. People like the Phoenix.

You couldn't get a job unless you had an implant, and while most people received one soon after birth, some people just slipped through the mazes of the law. Children living on the street were such a category, the reason why it had taken so long for Ace to receive an implant. He had never been placed in an orphanage until he was twelve, when the government discovered his powers.

He had been living on the street for a long time, although he had always had enough food. Every day, someone had brought it to him, saying it was courtesy of an anonymous sponsor. Ace had been grateful enough. After he had gotten the implant, he had been put in the system and, soon enough, had been placed in a foster home. The anonymous sponsor hadn't forgotten him, and when his foster parents couldn't afford it, his sponsor made sure he could study journalism like Ace wanted, by paying his tuition.

He had now finished his education, and had gotten a job placement at the local paper, along with his friend Usopp. The life of a journalist – or at least, a starting journalist – wasn't as glamorous as he had expected. Far from it even, he was reduced to an errand boy! After years of studying, he deserved something more, right? Which was why Ace was determined to unmask the Phoenix. While he couldn't help but admire the thief for his abilities to sneak in buildings unseen and come out with a lot of cash, Ace hated him for what he represented. He was a devil's fruit user, and he set a bad example for children. Children like him.

He shivered. "Is it cold in here?"

Usopp rolled his eyes. "You're always cold. Sometimes I wonder if you even have blood circulation. How many sweaters are you wearing this time?"

"Only two," Ace pouted.

"Run a lap, that'll warm you up. Anyways, I'm going home. Are you coming too?" Usopp asked as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Nah, I still have some files to sort. If I don't do that before tomorrow, the chief is going to yell at me again."

"Alright, see ya later then. And don't do anything stupid!" his friend added as he left.

Ace snorted and got to work. By the time he had finished sorting the files, he was the last person in the building, aside from the security guard. Ace was just waving the man goodbye as the journalist left the building, when the police radio started to speak.

"We have a break in at the National Museum. All units respond," a female voice said.

Ace suppressed an excited yelp. This was it; he would unmask the Phoenix today! At the speed of light, he unlocked his bicycle and raced over to the museum, which fortunately was close by. By the time that he arrived, police cars had already surrounded the building. Ace doubted that the thief would come out via the front door, so he turned around and cycled to the back. Of course, the cops weren't stupid and there were cars there as well, but they hadn't done their homework like Ace – and probably the Phoenix – had. After all, why would one use the door when one could fly?

Trying to be inconspicuous, Ace stole towards the building. The west side didn't have any exits, so no cops were standing ready there. Of course, the freckled man had known that the art thief would hit the museum again, so he was prepared. From the side of the building, a rope ladder was dangling, half hidden by the ivy that covered the wall. Armed with his bag and a camera, Ace climbed the ladder. Once on the roof, he crouched down, camera ready, and waited.

As he expected, soon a grate was moved out of the way and a figure hoisted themselves onto the roof. When he turned around, Ace's heart skipped a beat. He was right. It was the Phoenix!

The same mask of flames burning as they had ten years ago, covering his face, the man straightened himself and looked at Ace, his head cocked a little and a package that could very well contain a painting tucked under his arm.

The freckled man jumped up, his camera ready.

"I knew it! They wouldn't believe me, but it's really you!" In his excitement, Ace had trouble keeping the camera steady.

Before he could snap a picture, however, the Phoenix smiled at him and jumped into the air. His arms turned into flaming wings, matching the blue shade of his mask, and he kicked Ace in the chest. The journalist couldn't regain his balance, tripping over the edge of the roof. He tried to hold onto something, but all he managed to grab was air. With a scream, he tumbled over the edge.

Beneath him, he heard panicked voices, and right when Ace had closed his eyes and made his final prayer, he was caught in two strong arms. Looking up, he met the eyes of an annoyed looking policeman.

"He's on the roof!" Ace yelled, though he doubted the Phoenix was still there. He had pushed Ace off the roof as a distraction. Clever bastard. He had probably even calculated that the police would catch him in some way, or else he was more sadistic than Ace had anticipated.

As soon as the policeman noticed he was okay, Ace was put down onto his feet.

"I was right!" the freckled man exclaimed. "It _was_ the Phoenix!"

The officer raised his eyebrow. "The Phoenix isn't an art thief, boy. Maybe we should get you checked at the hospital."

* * *

Smirking, Marco flew across the night sky, the stolen painting safely in his talons. Granted, kicking the boy off the roof might have been a bit drastic, but the cops would have caught the kid. He hadn't expected anyone to be on the roof, so he had had to improvise. The boy had been a journalist or a wannabe, if the camera was anything to go by, and he had done his homework. How he had figured out the art was stolen by the Phoenix, Marco didn't know. After all, everyone knew him as a bank robber…

His career switch had taken place a few months ago when his client had first approached him. Marco had received a note with a date, a time and a place, nothing more, and curiosity had gotten the best of him. After all, robbing banks had started to become boring, and he loved a challenge.

Marco had seen his client's face as much as the client had seen his, but the man – or so he assumed, they might have used a voice changer so he couldn't be sure – had given him a picture of an artwork that the museum was going to exhibit. The exhibition was not open yet, which gave him the perfect moment to swipe the painting. He was offered a large sum of money if he could pull it off. Of course, he hadn't said no, and being an art thief somehow sounded more… elegant than an ordinary thief. He hadn't asked why his client had wanted the painting, and he hadn't spoken to them again until he was summoned. Apparently, Marco had done a satisfying job.

Today's object his client had set his heart on was, once again, a painting. It was the pride and joy of the museum, and even if Marco didn't see the big whoop about it – it wasn't even that pretty – it was supposed to be very valuable and a big deal in the art world.

Marco always delivered the artefact he had stolen to a place agreed on beforehand, but never the same place twice. His client was wealthy, that much he knew, because the rewards were handsome.

Being an art thief was the challenge he had been looking for and, it seemed, his calling. This was now his sixth heist, and his streak for not being caught continued.

Marco landed and transformed into his human form, keeping his mask on as he snuck into the abandoned warehouse nearby where his client had told him to meet. Usually, Marco would leave the artefacts – often paintings, sometimes sculptures – there and would receive the promised money a few days later, accompanied with a thank you note. What his client wanted with the artefacts Marco didn't know, nor had he asked at their first and only meeting. As long as he was getting paid, he wasn't asking questions.

This time, however, Marco saw a figure sitting on a crate, dressed entirely in black. He wore a Venetian mask that covered the upper half of his face. He was lean, his long black hair tied in a ponytail. Cautiously, Marco approached the man, the painting tucked under his arm.

"You're late," the figure spoke. His voice sounded different from the first time they had met, and while the man had been hidden in the shadows back then, Marco knew he was speaking to his client.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I had some delay." He smiled sheepishly.

"Oh?"

"The cops were there sooner than I expected. Nothing I couldn't handle. They still don't know it's me. That is…" Marco trailed off.

His client looked up, intrigued.

Marco sighed. "There was a kid on the roof. Not that young, about twenty or so, but he said something like he knew it was me."

"So what did you do?" The other man – Marco was quite certain of that now – leaned with his head on his hand.

A smirk appeared on Marco's face. "I threw him off the roof."

"My, you don't do things by halves, do you?"

"Relax, a cop caught him. I didn't try to kill him, only create a diversion. I don't need a damn brat in my business." He held out the painting. "Here. You've chosen an ugly one this time."

"Do you even care?" his client asked with a smile, as he took the painting out of the bag and checked it.

"Not as long as you keep paying me."

"Well, then." His client put the painting back in the bag and rose. With a wave, he said: "You've done a satisfying job, as always. You'll receive your payment shortly." With that, he disappeared in the darkness of the warehouse, leaving Marco alone.

* * *

Pleased with himself, Izo looked at the painting. The Phoenix had been right; it was an ugly piece of crap, but still it was admired by nearly everyone who was someone in the art world. Which was exactly why he had taken it. All of those snobs would be devastated. Izo would love to see pictures of their faces when it became known what was stolen. He imagined women fainting and men clutching at their hearts. A snicker escaped him.

Of course, Izo would never show the public how much he loathed them, because he was part of the art world. Being in the art world was the only way for Izo to earn respect from others due to the way he looked.

That wasn't the reason he had gotten into art, however. Izo had always shown talent, but his parents had deemed it a waste of time and money for him to pursue a career in art. It wasn't until an anonymous sponsor had paid for his education at the art academy that he had been given the chance he had been waiting for. He ran away from home and took the opportunity given to him. His parents had tried to get him back, but with the help of the teachers, Izo had managed to stay enrolled.

After graduation, his career had set off – with the help of his mysterious sponsor – and he had soon started to make some money. He was now, as they called it, loaded, but it had meant Izo had had to sell his soul. Or so it felt. He hated the art world, but loved to create art.

So, as a fuck you to all the stuck up assholes he was stuck with, Izo had come up with a plan. Steal the art so precious to them and forge it. Selling copies on the black market made quite some money – not that he needed it, which was why he had anonymously set up a trust fund for children who wanted to become artists – but more importantly, it raised panic in the art world.

He had of course heard about the Phoenix before – who hadn't? – but the idea of hiring him to steal the art works hadn't occurred to Izo until he had received a mysterious letter suggesting it. It had been strange, just a note stating that the Phoenix was available for hire. Izo had wondered if the bank robber was responsible for the note, but how could he have known that Izo was different from the rest of the artist and art lovers? In any case, Izo had decided to risk it, and the Phoenix hadn't failed him yet. He still didn't know who the man was, but he was reliable and very good at his job, so Izo called upon him every time.

A knock on his door woke him from his thoughts and, hastily, he hid the painting.

"Yes?" he called.

His butler entered. "Sir, we have to leave if you want to be on time for your own exhibition."

"Ah, of course. I'm coming." Taking a last look in the mirror, Izo hummed, pleased with what he saw. His make-up was perfect, as was his hair, and he was wearing a new kimono. Everything was perfect, down to the finer details.

When he arrived at the exhibition in the limousine, a red carpet was spread out and many photographers stood ready. Excited screams could be heard as soon as Izo left the vehicle. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the attention, but that didn't mean he was happy about the reason he received it. He knew it was more because he was eccentric, not following the standard set by society when it came to fashion, than it was for his art. Still, he considered himself a fresh breath of air in the art world, something those dusty old people could definitely use.

Inside, Izo watched his guests looking at his paintings and sighed. He knew he was talented, but he also knew that most people were only here because he was the next new thing. He held some interviews, talked to some people, all the while with a fake smile plastered across his face.

Izo excused himself to go to the bathroom, though it was more because he felt a headache coming on, and needed to get some fresh air along with some peace and quiet than anything else. Nights like this reminded him how much he hated these people and he strengthened his resolve to forge the artefacts.

"'scuse me, ma'am," a voice behind him suddenly said. "I'm looking for the artist. Could you point me to him?"

As there was no one else around, Izo assumed the person had spoken to him. It wasn't the first time this had happened, yet it never failed to irritate him. With an expression that showed as much, he turned around, facing a man with a pompadour-like hairstyle and a scar around his left eye. His goatee, which was black, didn't match his red-brownish hair.

"I beg your pardon?" Izo said in his lowest voice possible.

The eyes of the man widened slightly when he realised his mistake. "Ah, I'm sorry. You wouldn't happen to be Izo, would you?"

"I would be." With that, Izo turned around and started to walk back inside.

Unfortunately, the stranger followed him. "Look, I didn't mean to insult you. I just assumed–"

Izo rolled his eyes. "Exactly, you assumed. And you didn't insult me."

"Well, good. I think." The man still kept following him. "My name is Thatch. My boss sent me to commission you–"

"I'm not interested."

"I knew it! I did insult you!"

Izo came to an abrupt halt, almost causing the other man to bump into him. "No. You didn't. But you're ignorant, which is almost as bad." He started walking again and let out an annoyed groan when Thatch continued to follow him.

"Don't let your first impression of me cloud your judgement! My boss will pay you anything you want…"

Izo snorted. "Look around you! Does it look like I need money?"

Thatch seemed a little dismayed at that. It was probably the best argument he had had. "Can I convince you in any way?"

"I doubt it. I don't take commissions. The fact that I dislike you doesn't help your case either." Izo picked up a glass of champagne from a tray a waiter was carrying and took a sip.

"Your art is really gorgeous…" Thatch tried weakly.

"I know." The artist rolled his eyes. "Don't try to suck up. It's beneath you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have guests that irritate me less than you to entertain." He pushed past Thatch, only to have his wrist grabbed. Izo turned around, eyes dark with anger. "If you want to keep that hand, I suggest you let me go this instant," he hissed.

Hastily, Thatch pulled back, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Alright, I'm sorry." He scratched the back of his head. "I came here with one job, to convince you to accept the commission. Obviously, I screwed up, but can you at least consider it? I could get fired!"

"Maybe that's for the best," Izo snorted. "Then you can find a job that is more… idiot proof," he added with a small smirk. "If you'll excuse me."

"Go out with me."

Izo turned back to Thatch, his mouth hanging open, but no sound came out. He could only gape at Thatch. What went on in that man's head was beyond him.

"Ah, that came out wrong! Just…" Thatch seemed to consider his words. "Just have dinner with me. Then I'll present my argument and you can reject – _or accept_ – afterwards. Come on, the worst thing that can happen is you having a free dinner."

Izo watched him for a moment. After a closer look, the guy wasn't that bad looking. And now that he was all flustered about Izo's answer, it almost made him… cute. Still, it was fun to mess with him, so Izo took an extra-long sip from his champagne, pretending to consider the proposal. Just when Thatch looked like he was about to explode, he put down his glass.

"Alright. One chance."

Thatch sighed in relief. "Thank you! You won't regret it, I promise."

Izo rolled his eyes.

"Tomorrow at seven? I'll pick you up."

The artist smiled slightly. "Sure."

* * *

Thatch couldn't help but feel a little giddy about the whole situation. He had gone to the exhibition last night expecting to deal with some stuck up know-it-all. Instead, he had met Izo. While the artist definitely looked down on him, it wasn't because Thatch wasn't an artist himself or an art expert. He disliked Thatch because, as always Thatch had managed to put a foot in his mouth and speak before he thought. He had been surprised when the artist had accepted his proposal, especially with the smile that had accompanied it. Just thinking about it made his skin tingle.

He wasn't sure what exactly it was that had drawn him to Izo. Obviously, he was good looking and he didn't take shit from anyone. Yet there was something else. Izo seemed… lost. He didn't belong in the art world, not the one Thatch knew and feared, though he was no doubt talented. Thatch hadn't just been sucking up when he had complimented Izo's artwork. And honestly, he didn't blame Izo for not wanting to paint something someone else wanted him to paint.

Still, it was his job to get Izo to agree, or he could get fired. His boss had been very insistent that it was Izo who did the commission, even if Thatch wasn't sure why.

The fact that the dinner was business related didn't stop Thatch from trying to look his best. Making sure his pompadour was perfect and his goatee was well maintained, he stepped into the limousine and asked the driver to head for Izo's house. Last night, Izo had slipped a piece of paper in his hand with the artist's address written on it.

Arriving at Izo's house, Thatch could see that the artist hadn't been lying before; he definitely didn't need the money. The house was more like a mansion.

Suddenly feeling nervous, Thatch chewed his lip and wondered if he should have brought flowers or something. Taking a deep breath, he headed for the door and rang the bell.

The door was answered by the butler – Izo had a freaking butler – and, without a word, he showed Thatch in, asking him to wait in the hall until the 'master' showed up. Thatch swallowed thickly and nodded, feeling very self-conscious. He made good money with his job, but nowhere near this good. Looking down at his clothes, he realised how much he didn't belong in a place like this. What the hell had he been thinking, convincing himself that he had a shot with Izo?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Looking up, Thatch saw Izo standing at the top of an enormous staircase. He looked just as beautiful as the previous night, only less flashy. He wore a deep purple kimono and his hair was pinned up again, adorned this time with wooden hairsticks, and his face was covered in make-up. Just like as the previous night, he managed to take Thatch's breath away.

Izo chuckled and Thatch realised he had been staring. Clearing his throat embarrassedly, he waited until the artist had descended the stairs and was standing in front of him. It was hard to take his eyes off him.

"Well, er, the limo is ready," Thatch said, scratching the back of his head. "It's probably not as big as you're used to though."

Izo looked at him for a moment, before his lips curled into a small smile and he pressed a perfectly manicured finger against Thatch's chest. "Did no one ever tell you that size doesn't matter?" With that, he went outside.

For a moment, Thatch stood dumbfounded, butterflies fluttering around in his belly. When he managed to come back to his senses and run after Izo, the artist was already seated in the limousine. Hastily, he took a seat next to him, and directed the chauffeur to the restaurant.

"So what are we having?" Izo asked as he made himself comfortable.

"Japanese." In an article, he had read that Izo had Japanese roots, so it was a safe bet, right? Unless… that was what everyone figured. The man must be sick of that already! How stupid could he be? "Or we could go someplace else. It's your call," he hastily added.

Izo chuckled. "Japanese sounds fine to me." He sighed and relaxed against the comfortable couch, and seemed different from last night, less tense. So Thatch had been right; Izo didn't belong in the art world. He was just as uncomfortable around all those snobs as Thatch was, only Izo had to put up a mask and pretend to blend in. Looking at him now, all relaxed, he almost seemed… serene.

They talked about the weather on their way to the restaurant, and though the chauffeur beat Thatch to it with the car door, he insisted on opening the door of the restaurant for Izo. As they sat down at the table Thatch had reserved, he had trouble looking at anything other than the artist across from him. Only when Izo looked up from his menu did he hastily avert his eyes.

"Shall we start then?" Izo suddenly broke the silence, placing his menu on the table, clearly already decided on what he would order.

"Ah, right. So, where are you from?" Thatch asked, also making his choice.

Izo raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were here for you to convince me to take the commission."

"You don't waste time over business, do you? I thought we could have a pleasant conversation before we got to it," Thatch said, shrugging.

"This isn't a date."

"I know that." Thatch cursed the fact that his voice sounded higher than usual. "Doesn't mean it can't be pleasant, right?"

"Fine." Izo sat back in his chair. "I was born into a middleclass family, but when I wanted to pursue a career in art, my parents denied me. I managed to enrol into the art academy with the help of an anonymous sponsor."

"I had the same thing!" Thatch exclaimed. "Not for the art academy, though. For culinary school."

"You're a cook?" Izo asked as he placed his order with the waiter.

"Technically, yes, but with this economy, I couldn't find a job as a chef. Then my boss offered me this job, which pays pretty well. It's true that I've had a few offers from restaurants, but the money is so damn good."

"So you sell out your passion for some extra cash?" Izo asked.

Thatch shrugged. "We can't all be famous artists. I love to cook, but I need to live as well. And the job isn't that bad."

"What is your job, anyway? And who is this mysterious boss of yours?" Izo took a sip from his wine the waiter had just brought over.

"I'm the personal assistant to Teach Marshall. Well, more secretary," he added with a laugh. "Usually, I make his appointments, answer the phone and such."

"I do hope you're better at answering the phone than you are at convincing people," Izo said, amused. "But your boss, he's some sort of business man?"

"You've never heard of him?" Thatch was genuinely surprised. Teach Marshall was pretty famous. When Izo shrugged, he said: "Well, he made a lot of money in a short time, that's why he's sort of a local hero."

"That still doesn't make me want to accept a commission from him."

Thatch sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, to be honest, the 'lots of money as a reward' is the best argument I have. I just wanted to have dinner with you."

Izo looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Why? Why would anyone want to spend time with a beautiful and interesting stranger? To get to know them, of course." He shrugged and moved his arms from the table as the food was brought over.

Izo stared at him for a moment, trying to size him up. Eventually, he narrowed his eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"I'm not trying to flatter you. Well, of course I am, but not to get the commission."

"I thought your job was on the line," Izo remarked as he speared some vegetables on his fork and brought them to his mouth.

Thatch watched as Izo's painted lips skilfully wrapped themselves around the food and Thatch swallowed. Tearing his eyes away, he said: "I was being overly dramatic. Teach is a cool guy. Besides, I have a skillset to fall back on." He smiled, and was pleasantly surprised when Izo smiled back at him. Cracks were beginning to form in the mask Izo put on – metaphorically speaking of course, his make-up was applied perfectly.

"So what about the commission?" the artist asked.

Thatch shrugged. "I have a feeling that you've already made up your mind about that, and I doubt I could change it. So I suggest we just enjoy dinner."

Another smile tugged at the corner of Izo's mouth. "Yeah, let's do that."

They talked about all sorts of things, and Thatch was happy he got to know the artist a little better. While he didn't say it, Thatch could see that Izo led a lonely life and had been hurt before, so he had put up a wall around him. Thatch was pleased to see that he made a few cracks in that wall.

After dinner, Thatch brought Izo back to his home in the limousine. It had started raining, but before the chauffeur could open the door on Izo's side, Thatch hastily took over, shielding Izo with the umbrella as he stepped out of the car. Izo chuckled at his eagerness, but cast him a warm look that did weird things to Thatch's stomach.

He walked Izo to the door, keeping him dry under the umbrella. In front of the door, Izo stopped and turned to him. "I'll speak with your boss about doing the commission."

"Really? I thought you didn't want to," Thatch said, curious about what had brought on Izo's change of mind.

"I didn't, but you stayed anyway. So I'll do it as a favour to you."

"You don't have to–" he started to protest, but Izo shook his head.

"I want to."

"Does that mean I'll see you again?" Thatch asked hopefully.

The artist laughed. "Could I have stopped you, anyway?"

"Probably not." Thatch grinned, leaning in a little. Izo tilted his head, but before their lips could touch, the artist pressed his finger against Thatch's lips.

"That does mean we should keep our relationship strictly professional," he said softly.

Thatch made an annoyed sound, but then sighed in defeat as he took Izo's hand in his. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe after the commission is done?"

Izo chuckled. "Yeah, maybe."

They looked at each other for a moment, and Thatch wondered when they had started holding hands. Reluctantly, he let go.

The artist got ready to go inside, but then turned around again and bit his lip. "I have to say, I completely misjudged you. I'm sorry."

Thatch smiled sheepishly. "That's okay. I know I can be an idiot sometimes."

"But a cute idiot," Izo said, smiling. Then, he pressed his lips against Thatch's cheek. "Good night, Thatch."

Thatch watched him go inside, his hand pressed against his cheek. Long after Izo's lips left him, he still felt their warmth. Eventually, he sighed happily and, whistling, he returned to the limousine that was still waiting. He couldn't wait to tell his friend about Izo.

* * *

"You're late." Ace slid the beer across the bar to his friend, who had just joined him.

Thatch laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, for a moment I was hoping I wouldn't be coming at all."

Ace raised an eyebrow and took a sip from his drink. "Am I not good enough company for you?"

"Of course you are. I just… met someone."

"Oh? But it didn't work out?"

Thatch hummed around his beer. "Yes and no. Not for now. We like each other, but because we will be working together, we decided to keep it professional. For now."

"And who is this mystery person that can make our Thatch all weak in the knees?" Ace asked, teasing him.

Thatch snorted, but answered anyway. "Do you know the name Izo?"

Ace frowned. "Isn't he that eccentric painter?"

Thatch grinned.

"Nice. You got yourself a goldmine."

"Don't say that. I don't care about the money." Thatch shrugged. "He's just… amazing. But he has this sad look in his eye that makes me want to hold him and tell him it's all gonna be okay."

"Since when are you so sappy?" Ace snorted. Then he sighed. "Well, I'm happy for you, I guess. Though you would do good to tell him to watch his paintings. With all the art thefts and all."

"Right. You still convinced that it's the Phoenix who's behind them?"

"It _is_ the Phoenix. I saw him! Right before he launched me off the roof. Just because he made a career change doesn't mean it can't be him."

Thatch took a draught of his beer and shrugged. "Whatever you say."

Ace rolled his eyes at his friend's disbelief, but froze when he saw the reflection of a blue flame in the mirror behind the bar. Brusquely, he turned round, but all he saw were regulars of the bar.

Being a regular himself, Ace had become acquainted with quite a few of them, and there was one guy who he didn't recognise. He had blond hair and was wearing glasses. Unlike most of the people present, he sat alone, drinking what appeared to be whiskey. Something about him looked familiar though.

Ace grabbed Thatch's arm. "Don't look, but I think the Phoenix is here."

His friend rolled his eyes. "You know, this obsession of yours is getting out of hand. You really think the Phoenix would just walk into a bar?"

Ace shrugged. "Why not? Everyone needs a drink now and then, and he has a stressful job."

"Right, stealing artworks and whatnot." The sarcasm was dripping from Thatch's words and Ace became irritated.

"Just look. Inconspicuously!" he added when his friend just turned around.

Thatch rolled his eyes again, but did as he was told. "Where is he then?" When Ace indicated with his head, he burst into laughter. "The lonely blond? Listen, Ace, if you just want to get freaky with someone, you don't have to make up excuses. Just go and flirt a little!"

Ace stared at him with his mouth hanging open. Thatch couldn't be more wrong! As if he would want to get involved with a criminal. Sure this blond fellow was not that hard to look at, but still.

Thatch had given him a good idea on how to get close to the blond, though, so Ace decided to play along. "Alright, you got me. You sure you won't mind if I go?"

"Not at all!" Thatch slapped him amicably on the back. "I have to go anyway, early day tomorrow. Just keep it safe." He winked and downed his beer, missing Ace's eye roll. As if he was going to have sex with the Phoenix.

After his friend had left, Ace ordered two whiskeys and walked over to the table. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

The man looked up and, after giving Ace a once over, he nodded. He looked a little surprised when Ace placed the glass of whiskey in front of him, and his lips curved into a playful smile. "I've always been told not to take drinks from strangers." His voice was deep and pleasant.

"I thought that only applied to candy," Ace responded with a smile of his own. "But if you don't trust me…" He picked up the glass that he placed in front of the blond and downed it in one. He placed the glass back on the table and looked at Marco defiantly.

The blond looked at Ace, trying to size him up. Eventually, he sat back in his chair and said musing: "You are either honest or very stupid to drink your own drug."

"Which is it gonna be?"

The blond cocked his head a little and chuckled. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt." He gestured for the bartender to give them another round.

"I'm Sabo," Ace said and stretched out his hand, though he wasn't sure why he gave a fake name. If this man was the Phoenix, he probably wouldn't remember him and if he did, Ace had never introduced himself ten years ago. At least as far as he could remember, so better safe than sorry.

"Call me Marco," the blond said as he picked up the glass that had just been placed in front of him, and took a sip.

"Okay, _Marco_," he said, making sure the name rolled off his tongue seductively. "Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before."

Marco had already shown some interest in him, first by checking him out and inviting him to sit, and then through some subtle flirting. Ace only needed to seal the deal and make sure that Marco invited him to his place. If it was the same house he had brought Ace to ten years ago, he would have his proof. If not, Ace would have to look for clues himself, but it would be worth it.

His heart was beating like mad and he tried to calm himself by taking a sip of his booze. Ace was now undercover, but unlike cops, he didn't have any backup. As far as he knew, the Phoenix had never harmed anyone, but, then again, he _had _kicked Ace off the roof of a building.

Maybe Ace should have thought his plan through some more, but now it was too late. He could either pull out now or push through. If he gave up now, he lost a golden opportunity to find out the Phoenix's true identity. It didn't look as though the blond had recognised him, so he had the advantage here. He would have to see the plan through.

"I'm in town on business," Marco said, swirling his drink around in his glass. "Does that mean you come here often if you know everyone so well?"

Ace shrugged. "I come here to unwind. Most people here are regulars. The place is pretty hard to find for people who don't know its location. How did you find it?"

Marco smiled mysteriously. "Luck, I guess." As he said it, his eyes flicked up and down Ace's body.

The freckled man cheered on the inside, but made sure only to smirk back. He had Marco definitely hooked, so now he had to keep him interested.

He leaned in, head resting on his hand. "I think I'm the lucky one."

They chatted for a while, about a lot of things. Ace tried to fish for any kind of information he could obtain about the Phoenix, and when Marco excused himself to go to the bathroom, Ace quickly pulled out his notebook and wrote everything down. It wasn't much, the blond had a knack for making the conversation just about Ace, but, as a good journalist, he knew that every good lie contained a bit of truth. He might be able to figure Marco out if he took his time.

The one thing he didn't understand was the flicker of blue fire he had seen before he had seen Marco at the bar. It was almost as if the man had been trying to get his attention, but why would he risk using his powers in a public place? It didn't seem like anyone else had seen it, not even the barkeeper who should have been facing Marco. Had Ace imagined it? Was Thatch right that he was so obsessed with the Phoenix that he had started seeing things?

Ace didn't have much time to think about it because Marco returned. Hastily, he put away his notebook and tried to look bored.

"Is something on your mind?" Marco asked as he took a seat again.

"Hm, I was just thinking I'm getting bored of this place. You wanna go someplace else?"

"Did you have anywhere in mind?"

Time to reel in.

Ace leaned in and whispered in Marco's ear: "I was hoping a place that was a little more… private." Marco didn't stir for a moment, and Ace feared that his plan had failed, until the blond leaned in as well.

"And I assume you know a place like that?" he asked breathily, and Ace had to suppress a shudder. He kept repeating his goal in his head over and over again, that he was there to expose the Phoenix, _not_ to have sex with a handsome stranger.

It took him a few seconds to pull himself together. Swallowing several times, he said: "We could go to my place, but I have roommates. I don't suppose you have a place with less people?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Marco's mouth, and after counting a few bills, he placed the money on the table before standing up. "Follow me."

Ace couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief. For a moment, he had been afraid that Marco would suggest an alley or something, and that would have ruined Ace's plan entirely. Though, on second thought, Marco could still lead Ace to an alley after all.

Fortunately, that didn't seem to be the case, but Ace couldn't help but feel disappointed when they stopped in front of a hotel. It wasn't the house he had been in as a kid. Then again, Marco had claimed he was here on business, suggesting that he didn't live around here. The fact that they'd come to a hotel rather than a house made that story more even more plausible.

Still, this might just be the place the Phoenix operated from, so there could still be clues about Marco's real identity.

They made their way inside. The hotel wasn't that impressive, an average hotel for an average businessman, Ace figured. Marco had obviously checked in already as he led Ace straight to the elevator.

The freckled man was taken by surprise when he was suddenly pinned against the wall inside the elevator, hungry lips pressed against his. He yelped, but the sound was smothered by Marco's mouth, the sound soon turning into a moan.

Ace couldn't help it. Phoenix or not, Marco was an amazing kisser. He had hardly noticed how his mouth was coaxed open until Marco's tongue made its way inside. Ace couldn't suppress another moan, and gripped Marco's hair with one hand as the other clawed at Marco's shirt.

The doors of the elevator opened with a soft ping, and Ace was led outside. The freckled man had half the mind to look around, but the hallway was completely deserted. Soon, he was once again pressed up against a hard surface while Marco opened the door to his room, all the while never stopping kissing Ace.

Marco's hands roamed over his clothes, cupping his ass and squeezing it roughly. The freckled man could feel his body responding to the attention it was receiving. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had a mission, but it was hard to focus with a hot guy's tongue down his throat, Ace concluded as he took off Marco's glasses.

His back hit the bed and Marco didn't waste any time, climbing on top of him. The blond's lips left his mouth and Ace let out a disappointed noise, which was soon muffled when Marco started to pay attention to his neck. In order to do that, Marco had to pull down the collar of the turtleneck sweater Ace was wearing, but right now, Ace didn't mind the cold. Teeth scraped the sensitive flesh of his neck and Ace sighed happily.

Maybe he had been too rash in his decision that Marco was the Phoenix. Why on earth would a wanted criminal walk into a bar, right? No, Marco was probably just a nice guy who was in town on business. A nice, hot guy who wanted to have sex with Ace, just as much as Ace wanted to have sex with him.

Marco kissed his lips once more, before he suddenly flipped Ace over onto his stomach and lifted up the sweaters he was wearing. Marco stopped moving and Ace looked over his shoulder, confused. The blond sat on Ace's upper legs, straddling them, and frowned as he looked down.

"What?" Ace snapped. He just wanted to get naked and fuck, was that too much to ask? A moment later, he realised what Marco was staring at. "What, never seen a scar from a seastone before? Lots of people have them, you know. I'm completely normal," he said hastily.

Marco's fingers brushed over the stone implanted at the base of his spine. "How long have you had this?" he asked softly.

Ace shrugged. "Since I was a kid, like most people."

"About ten years?"

Ace pushed up on his elbows and turned around as much as his position allowed and looked at Marco. "How would you– Unless…"

The blond shook his head. "This wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered.

"Of course it was!" Ace snapped, and tried to escape, but Marco had him pinned him down. "I am not a monster! Not like you!"

There was no doubt in his mind now that Marco was the Phoenix. No one else would have known that Ace had only had his seastone for ten years. Most children got them young so they didn't even remember which powers they had, much less develop them.

Marco moved and, suddenly, he was very close to Ace's ear. "I'm sorry this happened. I should have stayed with you."

"Fuck you!" Ace spat. "You shouldn't have saved me in the first place! Hell, you didn't save me at all! This seastone is the best thing that ever happened to me! At least I'm not a demon anymore!"

"I'm sorry to hear that they got to you. I should have protected you, and I'm sorry." He flipped Ace over again, knocking the air out of his lungs. "For what it's worth," he continued, "it was nice seeing you again." He kissed Ace again before jumping onto the windowsill.

Ace was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened, and could only stare as Marco, the Phoenix, changed his shape into a bird form and let himself fall out of the window. As soon as his body listened again, Ace ran to the window, but he could only see a blue flicker disappear into the night's sky.

* * *

Marco flew through the sky, the wind whistling through his feathers. He loved to fly and couldn't bear the thought of never using his powers again. Like the boy. He sighed as guilt gnawed at him. He should have never let him out of his sight. He could have taken the boy under his wing – figuratively speaking – and help him develop his powers.

Instead, he had just postponed the inevitable. The government had gotten to the boy, Sabo apparently, indoctrinated him with their lies about him containing a demon. Sabo had called him a monster because he had his powers, but it were his powers that made Marco complete. He had been miserable when he had had the seastone implanted and he was sure Sabo was as well. The boy had the power of fire after all. He shouldn't have been wearing at least three sweaters to keep warm.

The man who had raised him, had explained to Marco that the seastone implants had a side effect. They would suppress the person's powers, but at the same time, they would make them vulnerable for the opposite of the power. That was why Marco was sick often and his wounds only slowly healed when he had the implant; it was because his powers were those of healing. So Sabo, with his power of fire and therefore heat, was cold because his powers couldn't protect him anymore.

Marco had recognised Sabo as the boy soon after they had started talking. The boy hadn't changed as much in appearance aside from growing up, and he was pleased with how Sabo had grown up. The boy – now a man – had seemed interested in him as well, and Marco had had every intention to have sex with him. But first, he had had to check if what he feared was true.

Marco had hoped he was wrong, that Sabo still had his powers, those beautiful flames from ten years ago, but there it was, the seastone at the base of his spine. He hated the sight of it, and he hated what they had done to that boy. Brainwashed him. Marco feared he was too late to help him. Sabo wouldn't listen to him, not anymore. If only he had stayed with him all those years ago…

Sighing, Marco shook his head. Nothing could be done about it anymore, so he had to accept the fact that Sabo was how he was.

Now, Marco had another mission and another artefact to steal. He would be early in executing the robbery as he had planned to drinking in a bar or, after meeting Sabo, to be rolling around in the sack at this moment now, but it didn't really matter. He would be able to leave it at the agreed place, and his client could pick it up when he wanted.

Today's artefact was a small sculpture from a private, housed collection. Marco landed on the roof, transforming into his human form, his mask covering his face. The window to the attic where the sculpture could be found was easily opened, and noiseless, he let himself drop down onto the floor.

The house was completely silent and dark, but that had never stopped him before. Using his fire to light the way, Marco searched the house for the sculpture. His client was always quite thorough when laying out his plans, and this time he had provided Marco with the blueprints of the house, a cross indicating where Marco could find the sculpture.

Of course, it was locked tightly in a safe – tightly for normal thieves at least. With all his experience, it took Marco two minutes to open it, disappointing himself with how easy it had been.

Contemplating if he should take the sculpture professionally without setting off the alarm or just grab it and go, he carefully wrapped his hand around the statue. Tonight had doubled his pent up sexual frustration as Marco had had a very willing partner. His fun had been cut short, however, and so he decided that he could use a good old fashioned chase to relieve some of his frustration. Putting the statue in his bag, he waved his arms around a bit to set off the alarms, if they hadn't been set off already. The door of the safe started to close automatically and, with a satisfied grin, Marco snuck out of it.

Marco left the room with the safe in it and made his way to the living room. Several staff members seemed to have been woken by the alarm. Marco decided that enough people had seen him and transforming, he burst through a window, shattering the glass.

Sirens of police cars were wailing outside when Marco, in his Phoenix disguise, sailed through the sky. It had been a long time since he had flown so fast and he pushed his limits to the extreme.

Eventually, he was satisfied with the distance between him and his pursuers, and Marco landed, changing to his human form and taking a moment to catch his breath.

With the bag containing the statue secure on his back, Marco started to make his way through the town to the agreed meeting place. It was in a deserted area, as were all of their exchange places.

When he arrived, Marco saw a figure standing underneath a streetlight, seemingly waiting for something, and, hastily, he hid. The person didn't appear to be a cop, but they were standing in the shadows, so Marco couldn't be sure.

There were two possibilities. Either the person was a civilian waiting for someone or it was his client waiting. If it was the former, Marco could only approach in his human form without his mask of flames. If it was his client, however, he wouldn't be able to show his face and reveal his true identity.

Debating on what to do, Marco was startled when a voice suddenly spoke: "I understand that you need to be careful, but I can guarantee you that I haven't seen your face."

Recognising the voice instantly, Marco rose, flames covering the upper half of his face. "What are you doing here? I'm not late this time. On the contrary."

His client shrugged. "I was bored."

Same as the last time they had met, Marco's client was clad in all black clothes and wearing a Venetian mask with his hair hanging in a loose ponytail down his back.

"Bored?" Marco asked, a little suspicious.

His client took a seat on a rickety looking bench and tapped the wood beside him. "I have to admit, I don't have many friends and I rather enjoyed our talk the other night."

Marco sat down beside him and observed the other closely. The only skin on show was the lower half of his face as even his hands were clad in black cloth, but Marco could see he had a pale complexion. From behind the Venetian mask, dark eyes looked back at him, and, for some, reason, they put Marco at ease. Not enough to throw all caution to the wind and remove his own mask, of course, but they did make him relax a little. "You enjoy talking about throwing people off roofs?"

"What?" His client smiled. "You did that again?"

He smirked back. "Not this time, no. My plans were interrupted again, however."

"Do tell."

"Let's just say that I'd have rather stayed inside a little longer and finished what I'd started."

"Did you have company?" his client inquired.

Marco just placed his elbows on the back of the bench and stared to the sky, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth when he recalled the noises Sabo had made.

His client chuckled behind his hand. "Naughty boy. Do I want to know why your adventure was cut short? Jealous partner?"

Marco shrugged. "It's a little more complicated than that." He knew he should probably be worried that Sabo had seen his face and knew who he was at night, but Marco was more concerned about Sabo's attitude towards devil's fruit powers.

His client seemed to sense his reluctance to talk about it further, so he changed the subject. "You know, you've never asked me why I want you to steal these artefacts."

"You don't pay me to ask questions. But," Marco continued, "a while ago, the first painting I stole for you resurfaced on the black market. Or a painting very closely resembling it." He looked at his client from the corner of his eye.

The other man chuckled. "I also don't pay you to think. But very good, Mr Phoenix."

"So a forger, eh? That must be where you get the money to pay me."

"Actually, I am very rich to begin with. That reminds me, I have something for you. That is, if you have something for me."

Marco leaned forward and rummaged around in his bag until he retrieved the statue. His client took it from him, studying it closely. "What do you think of this one, Mr Phoenix?"

Marco shrugged. "I only steal art because you ask me to, not because I have any knowledge about it."

"Then I suggest you read some literature on art. But that's not what I asked."

"It's okay. I've seen nicer stuff."

His client smiled, handing him an envelope before he rose. "I had a lovely time. Until next time, Mr Phoenix."

* * *

Izo stood in front of a tall building, looking up. His hair was done perfectly, as always, though he might have put in a little extra effort today. Not for this Marshall fellow he was going to meet, but perhaps a little for Thatch.

He really had to stop smiling when he thought of Thatch, but he couldn't help it. Thatch was different from anyone else he had ever met. He didn't care about anything but Izo himself. Not Izo's fame or his money. He was the only one who liked Izo for who he was, with maybe the exception of the Phoenix, but he knew as much about the Izo as Izo did about him.

From what he had seen last night, the Phoenix appeared to be blond, but that was as far as his information went. That, and he knew the man had a pleasant voice. Quite soothing, actually. Izo was curious about the man behind the mask. Did he have a normal job during the day or did he only come out at night?

Shaking off the thoughts about last night, as he had other things to focus on, Izo entered the building. Despite the size, he immediately felt trapped. He felt more at home in his own studio, with windows on all sides to capture as much natural light as possible. The building here was lit with artificial light that made every colour look washed out.

Izo wrapped his arms around himself and glanced around a bit helplessly, unsure what to do. His feeling of unease disappeared when the elevator pinged and the sliding doors opened to reveal Thatch's smiling face.

"Right on time," Thatch said warmly when he saw Izo, and reached out his hand. "Come on, Mr Marshall is waiting."

Put at ease, Izo followed Thatch inside the small elevator as his companion pressed the button for the top floor.

"Nervous?" he asked Izo as the doors slid shut.

"Why would I be nervous?" the artist huffed. "Your boss wants something from me, and I'm in the position to deny it. I don't need anything from him. In fact," he turned towards Thatch, "some things would be much easier if I didn't take the job."

Thatch seemed to hesitate, weighing his options, but finally sighed. "I can't force you to do anything, not that I want to, but don't decline just for me. It would be pretty good for my career and it's only temporary, right?"

"Fine." The word came out more primly than he had intended, if only because he didn't want Thatch to know that he was a little disappointed. He knew he shouldn't be, after all, they didn't even know each other that well. It had just been long time since he had had someone to talk to who he actually liked, but just because he was lonely didn't mean that Thatch should turn his life upside down for him.

"Wait."

Izo turned around, slightly confused. Thatch hadn't moved from his spot in the elevator.

Slowly, Izo stepped back inside. "What is it?"

"I don't want you to think I think money is more important than you are."

"We don't know each other that well," Izo countered. "And it's fine, really."

"No, it's not. I…" Thatch scratched the back of his head. "I have been saving up for a while now and a bonus could really come in handy."

"I understand," Izo said. "You don't owe me an explanation. It's fine. I said I wanted to do this for you. So it's all good."

"I want to open my own restaurant."

Izo froze, his finger hovering over the button to open the elevator doors that had closed while they were talking. Slowly, he turned around. "Really?"

"Yeah. Cooking is my real passion. I don't want to be stuck as a secretary all my life. I know I could earn my money doing what I love, but this helps me get it quicker. It's just a means to an end. But," he said as he took Izo's hand, "I like you, and if this is going to drive a wedge between us…"

"It's not." Izo smiled. "You said it; it's only temporary." He opened the elevator doors and left the small space, swaying his hips a little more than necessary. Just to mess with Thatch.

* * *

Thatch only remembered that staring at Izo's behind _wasn't _his assigned task for the day when the elevator doors threatened to close again. Hastily, he slipped through them and followed the artist towards his boss' office. "Wait here a second," Thatch said to Izo and gestured to the couch that stood next to his desk.

Izo did as he was told, crossing his legs elegantly, and Thatch had to remind himself to go to Mr Marshall's office.

He knocked and when he was invited in, he peered his head around the corner. "Mr Marshall? Your ten o'clock is here."

His boss looked up from his desk. "Ah, the artist, right? Let 'em in!"

Thatch nodded and retracted his head. "Izo? Come on in."

The artist rose, brushing imaginary dust from his kimono, and entered the office, passing Thatch, who held the door open.

Mr Marshall rose and welcomed Izo in with open arms. They shook hands and his boss gestured for the artist to sit in the chair across the desk. "Thatch!" he called out. "It's time for pie, don't you think?"

Thatch chuckled. For his boss, it was always time for pie. While he didn't want to leave Izo alone, he needed to leave the room to get the pie.

In the kitchen, Thatch cut several pieces of pie in record time, and pouring the coffee he had made beforehand, he returned to his boss' office.

"You do have a lot of nerve to demand something like this from me," Izo said just as Thatch closed the door behind himself. "On top of that, you sent your _assistant_ to do your dirty work. I don't need this commission, you know."

Mr Marshall burst into laughter. "Of course, of course. I was planning to come myself, but things got in the way. And Thatch does have a certain charm about him, doesn't he?" He slapped Thatch amicably on his shoulder as a piece of pie was placed in front of him. Thatch dared to shoot a glance at Izo and saw that one corner of his mouth was curled up subtly.

"I suppose he does. And it is only out of courtesy to him that I even consider doing it. So convince me." Izo picked up his fork and broke off a piece of the pie. Thatch watched with a mixture of excitement and anticipation as the artist took a bite and smiled as his face lit up.

"Good pie, eh? Our Thatch makes them himself," his boss said.

Izo looked at Thatch, a look of slight surprise on his face and a genuine smile on his lips. Thatch could only grin in return, even if he looked like a fool doing it.

"As for compensation…" Marshall slid a piece of paper across the desk. Izo picked it up and stared at the number unimpressed, even if it made Thatch's mouth fell open. If his bonus was anything like that, he would be able to buy his restaurant tomorrow!

Izo placed the paper back on the desk. "I don't need the money. However, while this is very generous, it is still a lot for one of my paintings."

"That's because I want two." Mr Marshall scraped his plate clean and patted his belly. "Do you have more of this delicious pie, Thatch?"

"Sorry, all out," he said hastily. He wasn't actually out, but he was intrigued by the conversation. His boss had never mentioned anything about wanting two paintings.

Mr Marshall looked disappointed, but before he could protest, Izo said: "Two?"

"Well, yeah. The first one is what you would call a test run."

"Excuse me? If you want samples, you can just look at the paintings I have made before." Thatch could hear the irritation in Izo's voice, and he hoped his boss hadn't insulted the artist.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like your art. On the contrary. But while I know what the painting looks like, I don't know how the landscape or model look."

"Like on the painting," Izo all but spat. Thatch was getting nervous. If Izo lost his cool, he would need to pick a side and he would rather not have it come to that.

"Right. But the human body is never perfect, and some artists have the tendency to obscure the blemishes, so to speak," Marshall explained. "I need to know you can replicate something exactly… for the actual commission."

Izo seemed to mull his words over. "You are very lucky I haven't stormed out of your office," he finally said. "I have done that for less. You insult me by wanting a test. But since I came all the way down here, I'll give you a minute to make your proposal."

"That's simple. I want you to paint Thatch."

"Thatch?"

"Me?" Thatch called out simultaneously.

His boss leaned back in his chair. "Sure. I don't have the time, and I know what Thatch looks like. Do it satisfactorily and half of this," he tapped the piece of paper, "is yours."

"Wait, do I have a say in this?" Thatch asked, confused.

"You work for me, so no. And you'll get to keep the painting. Consider it a bonus."

Thatch's face fell. He had hoped his bonus would be money and while having a painting of himself painted by Izo might be nice, nobody wanted to buy a portrait of someone they didn't know.

"Alright."

Surprised, Thatch turned around. On Izo's face lay a mischievous smile.

"However," the artist said, "I can only paint during the day because I need natural light. Which means I'll need Thatch during the day."

"Not a problem! A monkey can do Thatch's job. He'll be replaced easily."

Thatch snorted indignantly. A monkey couldn't bake a pie, could it?

"Then you have yourself a deal." Izo rose and shook Mr Marshall's hand. "When do you want me to start?"

"Tomorrow, I need it done as soon as possible."

While the other two men made a deal, it slowly started to dawn on Thatch what being Izo's model meant. It meant spending several days with the artist, at his house, just the two of them in private…

The foolish grin returned to his face. He couldn't wait to tell Ace about this.


	3. Chapter 2

Happy birthday, MyLadyDay :D

Thanks Vergina-spva for beta'ing

It wasn't supposed to take a year to update, and the story was definitely not supposed to grow beyond two chapters (and a prologue). But it did, so it's still not over XD I'll try not to make it another year before updating ^^;

For those of you who don't want/can't reread the first chapter: Ace has introduced himself as Sabo to Marco, just to make things confusing, so when Marco talks about Sabo, he means Ace.

Warnings: violence, imprisonment, sexual content, heartbreak

* * *

Ace stared in the direction in which Marco – no, the Phoenix – had disappeared. His brain was still trying to make sense of what had happened this evening. He had seduced the man he thought was the Phoenix, only to conclude that he probably wasn't him, and then find out that he, in fact, _was_.

He had been right all along. Why did he have to listen to his dick?!

Ace sighed. He had had the Phoenix, the man he had been looking for the past ten years, within reach – more than that even – and he had ruined it.

But the thing that struck him the most was the fact that Phoenix had remembered him. He had looked to see if Ace had a scar, but when he had asked if it had been ten years, Ace had been sure. Only the government agents, who had implanted him with it, and the Phoenix could know he had only had the seastone at a later age, instead of receiving it as an infant. Though, he couldn't possibly have known that Ace received the implant soon after he had met the Phoenix.

Had the Phoenix only wanted confirmation that Ace was that boy from ten years ago? If so, he had gone through great lengths just to lift Ace's shirt. Besides, the way the Phoenix had kissed him – he had still trouble wrapping his head around that fact – had been hungry and desperate, not to mention the boner Ace had felt. No, he was pretty convinced that the Phoenix had wanted to have sex with him.

The Phoenix' words echoed through his mind. 'I'm sorry this happened to you.' Sorry for what? Letting him stay a demon for longer than necessary? The Phoenix, who could still use his powers, was obviously dangerous.

Ace could only be relieved the Phoenix had left him to his own devices and that the government agents had found him. He shuddered at the thought of staying with the Phoenix. He would probably have become his sidekick or something.

No, the way things had played out was just fine. He just needed a shower to wash the smell of the Phoenix off him. Since the Phoenix had left anyway, Ace decided to use the shower in the hotel room.

When he made his way to the bathroom, he noticed a pair of glasses lying on the ground. That's right, he had taken them off the Phoenix' head when…

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about what happened anymore. But would the Phoenix come back for his glasses?

Ace picked them up and looked through them. They were obviously fake as the lenses were just made from regular glass, so he wouldn't need them.

Suddenly, however, Ace realised something. He had seen the Phoenix' face. He could tell the cops. The Phoenix had nowhere to run anymore.

Pleased with his solution, Ace took a quick shower. After he had dried himself off and got dressed, he searched the room for anything that might tell him something about where the Phoenix would go next, but he came up with nothing. Aside from the glasses, there was nothing personal in the room, only the things that belonged to the hotel.

Frustrated, Ace grabbed a few bags of nuts and some drinks from the mini-bar in the room. The least the Phoenix could do was pay for some overpriced snacks for him. He ate some nuts and drank a can of beer, and what he didn't want right away, he put in the pockets of his coat.

He then picked up the glasses carefully and put them in a plastic bag he had in his pocket. Of course, his own fingerprints were all over it, but hopefully, so would the Phoenix'.

He couldn't wait until morning, so after he had left the hotel, he went straight to the police station.

"I need to talk to a detective," he said to the desk clerk without greeting.

"What is this about?" the clerk asked him in a bored tone.

Ace chewed his lip. "I have information about the art thefts."

The desk clerk leaned in, looking intrigued. "You have information on those?"

"Yes." Ace took out the pair of glasses and placed it on the desk. "They're committed by the Phoenix. These glasses were part of his disguise."

The clerk blinked at him. "You… think the Phoenix is behind _art_ thefts? You know he robs banks, right?"

"Not anymore! Have you never made a career switch?" Ace asked, challenging.

The clerk narrowed his eyes. "And what proof do you have of this?"

Ace hesitated for a moment and looked everywhere but at the clerk. "'Cause I almost had sex with him," he muttered.

The desk clerk blinked at him and seemed to choose his words carefully. "Look, kid, if you had a bad breakup, that's no reason to accuse your ex of being a criminal."

"He's not my ex!" Ace called. "He literally flew out of the window!"

"Sir, have you been drinking?"

"What? No!"

"You smell like alcohol," the desk clerk said sharply.

"Fine, I had _one_ beer. From the mini bar in the _Phoenix'_ hotel room!" Ace started to become desperate. "The same room where I was with him! I saw him, I can provide you with a sketch."

The desk clerk sighed. "Sir, you're causing a scene. Don't make us arrest you for public drunkenness."

"I'm not drunk!" Ace shouted, frustrated. "Give me one of those tests and I'll prove it! I _saw_ the Phoenix!"

A police officer came walking by, reading a file. When he noticed Ace, he looked up. Ace instantly recognised him as the guy who had caught him when the Phoenix had kicked him off the roof of the museum.

"You again?" he grouched, obviously recognising Ace as well. "What are you going on about?"

"I'm _trying_ to bring you the Phoenix on a silver platter, but your clerk doesn't seem to want that!"

"He thinks the Phoenix is behind the art thefts," the desk clerk explained.

The officer, clearly of higher rank, thought for a moment. "Come with me." He gestured with his head.

"He's drunk!" the desk clerk called warningly after him.

Ace snatched the glasses from his desk and stuck out his tongue to him as he followed the officer to his office.

"My name is detective Smoker," the man introduced himself.

"Ace."

"So, Ace," Smoker sat down behind his desk, placing his feet on it, "you seem to have a slight obsession with the Phoenix."

"I'm not obsessed," Ace snapped.

"Are you drunk?"

"No."

Smoker hummed and retrieved two cigars. Ace declined politely, but was surprised when Smoker put them both in his mouth. However, when Smoker held his lighter to them, Ace couldn't help but stare in fascination at the small flame. It licked at the edges of the cigars that lit up immediately.

"Ace?"

"Huh?" He blinked as if he just woke up.

"I asked what proof you have. Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just a little tired." Ace placed the glasses in front of Smoker. "That should have the Phoenix' fingerprints on them. Also mine, because I took them off before I realised the man was the Phoenix."

Smoker picked up the bag and retrieved a glove before taking out the pair of glasses. "They're fake."

"Part of his disguise."

Smoker hummed. "So, where did you meet this man?"

"In a bar. He likes whiskey."

Smoker raised his eyebrow. "You think the Phoenix just walks into a bar?"

"Apparently," Ace said with a shrug. "Guy's gotta drink, right?"

"Okay." Smoker placed the tips of his fingers against each other. "And you're saying he took you to his place?"

"His hotel room, yes."

"By force?"

Ace shook his head, his cheeks slightly red. "No, I was very willing at that point."

"Did you have any idea he was the Phoenix when you came with him?"

"I had a hunch," Ace said hesitantly.

"Why?"

He hesitated again. "Can I trust you?"

"I'm not your confessor, nor your therapist," Smoker grouched. When Ace pouted, he sighed. "Fine. This won't leave this room."

Ace told him what had happened ten years ago. When he was done talking, Smoker nodded slowly. "Can you still find that house?"

Ace sighed. "Unfortunately, no. I've tried. But I can show you the hotel room." He rose from the chair he had taken a seat on.

"Not so fast, kid. I still have some questions for you."

Ace sunk down into the chair again.

"The most important question, actually." Smoker took a drag from his cigars. "How did you know he was the Phoenix?"

"'Cause he transformed right before my eyes and jumped out of the window," Ace said deadpanned.

"I don't take it you happened to take a picture or made a video of it?"

Ace shook his head. "It happened too fast."

Smoker leaned back in his chair and stubbed out his cigars. "Alright, final question. Why are you convinced that it is the Phoenix who is behind the art thefts? Why would he switch careers? Nothing has indicated that it's him."

"That's exactly it," Ace exclaimed. "Yes, he started out robbing banks, and there he left no traces. None at all. And these art thefts are done in the same manner."

"No clues, that's why you think it's the Phoenix?" Smoker asked with a raised eyebrow. "Robbing banks and stealing art are two different things entirely, you know. People don't just switch."

"Have there been bank robberies since the art thefts started?" Ace asked challengingly.

Smoker typed something in on his computer. "Doesn't seem like it. But," he continued when he saw Ace's triumphant face, "that doesn't mean it's the Phoenix. For all we know he just retired. He has been robbing banks for over ten years. He might just be tired of it."

"He hardly looked tired when I met him," Ace snapped.

Smoker's lips curled into a smile. "That was obviously for different reasons."

Ace flushed slightly.

"Look, kid," Smoker said as he lit another cigar, "it's a nice theory you have, but that is all it is. A theory. I'll have a look at that hotel of yours, but there's not much else I can do. We don't know when and where the art thief will strike again, and we can't be certain we're dealing with the Phoenix until we find some kind of evidence. So provide me with that and we'll talk again."

Ace rose and snorted. "Fine. I'll get you your proof. And I will make sure you'll catch the Phoenix."

* * *

Marco got even less sleep than usual. He couldn't stop thinking about Sabo. The thing he had feared the most for that boy had come true. He had received an implant, and worse, he _believed_ the government when he was told that his powers were bad.

It wasn't much of a surprise, really. The boy – Sabo, as he had introduced himself – had been young when it happened, so it wasn't unlikely that he trusted the judgement of adults. On the other hand, he had been running all his life from the government to prevent his powers from being taken, so why would he accept it after all that?

Marco sighed. He had just hoped that Sabo's personality, of which he had only seen a glimpse, was stubborn enough to keep fighting, even if he had been just a child.

Now that he had worked off his sexual frustration, there was only one feeling left. Guilt.

He should have never left the boy alone. What had he been thinking? Marco had been raised by a man who had selflessly taken him in and shown him how amazing his powers were. Why couldn't he have done the same for Sabo?

Finally, Marco decided that sleep wouldn't come anyway and he rose from the bed. He got dressed and made some coffee, which he poured in a thermos, before leaving the house.

He was currently staying in an apartment that Pops owned, even if he was in jail. Marco had many hideouts, like the hotel room he had showed Sabo to, or stayed in abandoned places. This apartment, however, was the one he called home.

During the day, Marco volunteered in an animal shelter. He didn't need a job for money since he had plenty of that, and he loved animals. Besides, he needed to do something with his free time.

The owner of the shelter, Blenheim – a man who didn't look like your common animal lover, but had a heart of gold – was pleased with the help Marco gave him and didn't ask any questions, like why Marco had so much free time to spend there working for free.

Marco came in when he felt like it, which was usually most of the day and sometimes, when he wasn't out stealing art, at night. The animals needed care then as well, after all.

Today, Marco was the first there, which wasn't unusual. He had long ago received keys from Blenheim so he could come and go as he pleased.

When he came in, the noise the animals made greeted him. He started by checking if they all had enough food and water, before he went to see Stefan.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but Stefan was his favourite dog. He reminded Marco of Pops with his white whiskers that looked like a moustache.

Marco petted Stefan, who licked him enthusiastically. After that, he let out the other dogs as well and got their leashes, as it was time for a walk. Walking eight dogs at the same time was a challenge, but Marco was used to it by now.

He played with them in the park until they were all tired, except Stefan, who seemed to have an endless supply of energy.

When he entered the animal shelter again, Blenheim was working behind the counter. "You were early today," he remarked when he saw Marco. "I was starting to wonder why someone had stolen my dogs, but was nice enough to feed the other animals."

"I couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd made myself useful," Marco replied as he took the leashes off the dogs.

"You should see a doctor about that."

Marco hummed.

"No glasses today?" Blenheim asked.

"I'm trying out lenses," Marco lied. He had left his glasses in the hotel room with Sabo. Not that he needed them; they were just part of his disguise.

Marco opened one of the birdcages and took out a parrot, which immediately sat on his shoulder. It was time to clean the cage, so Marco got the supplies.

"Did you hear there was another art theft tonight?"

Marco turned around. Blenheim was unusually talkative today. "Oh?" he feigned ignorance.

"Yeah, private collection this time. Nobody saw nothing of course."

Marco hummed again, before turning around. "I'll leave after lunch today. I have an appointment."

Blenheim shrugged.

They worked in silence for a while. Marco was the only volunteer at the moment, though there had been others before too. Now they mostly dealt with customers who wanted to take an animal home. Marco knew it was bad, but he was always relieved when Stefan wasn't chosen. Perhaps he should take him home himself soon, though he suspected that Blenheim told the costumers that Stefan was reserved for him already.

After lunch, Marco said goodbye to Blenheim and the animals. Even time with the animals hadn't been able to take his mind off Sabo, so he decided to take drastic measures.

The prison was a little outside of town, heavily guarded. Marco was a semi-regular, though he didn't visited Pops that often, mostly because his visiting hours were strictly regulated. Marco didn't doubt that Pops knew about everything going on on the outside, however.

As his son, Marco was one of the few people allowed to see Pops, yet every time he needed to be checked to see if he had weapons or other illegal things with him. As always, he had to lift up his shirt to show the guards the scar at the bottom of his spine.

He still had it from when he had had the seastone implant that Pops had removed, even if he could have easily healed it with his powers. It served as a reminder from what he had missed when he had had the device, and it was easier in his daily life. There wasn't a job interview that didn't have the seastone test. Either you showed your scar, or, if you didn't have one, you had to hold a special kind of seastone that made Devil's children weak in the knees. If you failed that test, you were taken by government agents.

Because it was deemed impossible to remove a seastone device and survive, showing the scar was usually enough. Marco had been in the prison often enough to be recognised by the guards, though the scar test was compulsory, and they didn't bother giving Marco a different test anymore. The first time he had come to visit, he had had to wear handcuffs despite the fact he could show a scar, just to be sure, but he had managed to act normally, so after that they didn't bother anymore. It was probably thanks to the fact that he had had a seastone once that the effect on him had lessened.

Pops was waiting on the other side of glass by the time Marco was done being checked by the guards. He had seastone shackles around his wrists and ankles, as usual, despite having in implant when he had been arrested. Perhaps the older you were when you received it, the less it worked. Marco had never inquired, because doing so would draw unwanted attention to himself.

His health had started to fail since he came to the prison. He was hooked up on oxygen, and his hair had fallen out at some point.

The one thing that had remained the same, however, was his impressive white moustache.

"Welcome, son," he said with a smile when Marco had picked up the receiver of the phone on his side.

"Hi, Pops. How are you?"

"Can't complain. The prison nurses are very nice." He grinned broadly.

Marco laughed and shook his head. "I brought something for you." He took out the photo of Stefan he had brought with him and pressed it against the glass so Pops could see it. "His name is Stefan. I'm thinking about adopting him. He reminds me of you."

"Gurararara! Aren't you a little busy for a dog these days, boy?" Pops asked.

Marco smiled. As he had suspected, Pops knew everything going on outside the prison. He knew everything about Marco as well, though Marco had never told him about his life of crime, not directly anyway. All their conversations were listened into and recorded. He couldn't afford to say something incriminating.

He told a bit more about the animal shelter and Blenheim, whom Pops always enjoyed to hear about for some reason.

Eventually, though, he ran out of things to talk about and a silence fell between them.

"So was this purely a social visit?" Pops eventually asked.

Marco hesitated for a second. "I… met him again. The boy," he finally said.

Pops hummed interestedly. Marco had told them about the encounter ten years ago, and it was the only thing he could be referring to.

Marco sighed. "They got to him."

"How did you find it out?" Pops asked with a knowing smirk.

Marco flushed slightly. "We were in a situation in which it was appropriate to have a look."

Pops laughed so loud he startled the guards. "I bet it was!"

"Pops! I feel guilty! If I hadn't left him… If I'd done what you did for me…"

Pops became serious again. "I take it he shares their opinion?"

Marco nodded.

Pops thought for a moment and then said, "You can't change the past, but perhaps you can change this kid's future. I'm sure he's reasonable enough."

Marco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean by that? What do you know?"

Pops just grinned and hung up the phone. Visiting time was over, and Marco was escorted outside.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Pops' words kept echoing through his mind. He was right, Marco could still right his wrong. If he could convince Sabo that his powers weren't evil and find someone else who could remove a seastone…

Life resumed as normal, though. He received a new assignment from his client; another painting from the museum.

At night, Marco snuck into the museum again. It hardly was a challenge anymore, though, tonight, something felt off. It was quiet as always, but somehow, it was too quiet. For now, though, there was nothing he could do.

Silent as a shadow he moved around until he had found the painting he had been looking for. It was a small one this time.

"Look who we have here," a familiar voice suddenly said behind him.

Marco froze, though he wasn't necessarily startled. He had thought he had felt a presence. But he hadn't expected _this_ presence.

Sabo stood behind him, a triumphant smirk on his face. He was wearing a guard's uniform. That explained it.

"Surprised to see me?" Sabo asked tauntingly.

"Surprised? No. But I have to say, I am a little disappointed," Marco said, sounding bored. He had his mask of flames covering his face despite the fact that Sabo had already seen it – from very close by.

"Yeah? You thought you could just use me and then just leave me?"

"As I recall it, you were as much into it as I was," Marco replied.

"That was before I knew for sure you were the Phoenix!" Sabo's cheeks had turned red.

"For sure? So you did have a hunch."

"I intended to prove you were him, which I did! Just not enough to convince the cops. But now I caught you red-handed trying to steal a painting. You are the art thief!" Sabo grabbed his camera and snapped a picture.

At the moment he pressed the button, however, Marco let his flames flare up, overexposing the photo. Furiously, Sabo tried it again.

"I can do this all day," Marco said with a smirk. "So, Sabo, you took a job as a security guard here to catch me?"

"It's Ace."

Marco raised his eyebrows.

"My name is Ace. I gave a fake one when I seduced you. And yes, I did. And I succeeded."

"Well done. Well, I have to go now." Marco grabbed the painting he – or rather his client – wanted and smashed in the nearest window. "Catch you later."

He transformed into his bird form and flew off. He heard footsteps running after him and with a smirk – insofar possible in this form – he looked over his shoulder.

Then he paled.

He had not expected Sabo – or Ace – to push off against the windowsill and jump – only to land on Marco's back.

Marco grit his teeth. "Let go of me, brat," he hissed.

"No! I've got you now!"

Grumbling, Marco flew over the flat roof of a building and made a corkscrew, intending to throw Ace off his back. He didn't want to kill him by throwing him off too high from the ground, but he also didn't want to take the brat with him.

Ace, however, held on tight.

Marco tried to throw him off several times, but Ace was stubborn as hell. Marco had to do something, because he couldn't bring the painting to the agreed place with a hitchhiker on his back.

He made ready to make another corkscrew, when he suddenly heard the sound of snoring. Ace's grip had loosened.

He had fallen asleep mid-air?!

Marco sighed as he flew on. He could hardly dump him now, and he doubted Ace was faking it. Who in their right mind would do that? He had kicked Ace off the roof before, he sincerely doubted Ace would trust him now not to throw him off his back.

He wouldn't do that, though. Not this time.

Marco had the chance to right his wrong of the past, and he intended to take that chance.

Slowing down a little and trying to keep his balance as well as possible so Ace wouldn't fall off, Marco brought Ace to one of his hideouts. There, he placed him on a bed and transformed back.

Closing the door behind him, he left again with the painting.

As expected, his client was already waiting for him when he arrived.

"Sorry, I can't stay to chat tonight," Marco apologised and handed his client the painting. He hoped it wasn't damaged too much in his hurry.

"Thank you," his client said. "And how come? Hot date?"

"Something like that."

His client smiled. "Well, you better not leave them waiting then. Until next time, Mr Phoenix."

* * *

Izo tried not to look too dashing, because he would have to change in his paint-covered yukata anyway once he started painting, but he couldn't resist dolling up a bit for Thatch.

Today, they would start on the painting that Teach had commissioned, and Thatch would come every day until it was finished. Izo had half a mind to drag it out as long as possible.

His butler, Zoro, announced that Thatch had arrived, and he was indeed waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

He smiled at Izo when he saw him. "You look amazing."

"Thank you. So do you." Izo eyed him up and down.

"Well, I am a model, after all," Thatch said with a smirk.

Izo chuckled. "Do you want to start right away or do you want to do something else first?"

Thatch's eyes flicked to his lips briefly. "I _want_ to do something else, but it would probably be better to start on the painting right away."

"Very well." Izo took Thatch's hand and led him to his studio. Bright sunlight shone inside, as there were windows on all sides.

Thatch looked around in awe, meanwhile not letting go of Izo's hand. "This is amazing."

"I prefer to paint with natural light," Izo explained as he let go of Thatch and walked towards the folding screen in the corner. He started to change into his painting clothes as he continued, "Don't worry, though. You can't see in unless you're in the garden, and only my butler and my chef are here. They have better things to do."

He appeared again, tying his hair into a loose bun. "What?" he asked when he saw Thatch smiling at him.

"You're pretty."

Izo rolled his eyes. He hardly looked his best at the moment, yet he couldn't help but smile. "How do you want me to paint you?"

Thatch shrugged. "The point is that you paint me lifelike, right? I guess it doesn't matter to Mr Marshall how you paint me."

"Then how about," a mischievous smile appeared on Izo's face, "I paint you naked?"

Thatch's eyes widened. "I…I'm not sure I'd want to have a naked painting of myself."

"Really? Well, I think I know someone who would be interested in that," Izo replied.

"Really now?"

"I assure you, he knows his art." Izo smirked.

"Well," Thatch said, mirroring Izo's expression, "tell him I'd be interested in a fair trade."

"You will paint a naked portrait of me… him?" Izo asked curiously.

"Well, no, assuming _he_ would want it to look like him. But perhaps he could paint one of himself, as I heard he is quite the painter."

Izo laughed. "Just take off your pants."

"I'm not sure my boss would be pleased to see me naked," Thatch protested.

"He never said anything about you having to wear clothes," Izo replied and walked towards Thatch. "I didn't know you were so shy," he whispered huskily in Thatch's ear.

"I'm not." Thatch swallowed when Izo popped open the first button of his shirt.

"Would you prefer to do it yourself?" Izo purred as he opened the second button. "You can use the folding screen if you want."

"I have to be naked anyway," Thatch replied.

"You don't _have_ to do anything. It's your painting; I'll paint you any way you like." Izo walked towards the chair he would sit on and picked up his sketchbook and pencil.

Thatch suddenly seemed to get his confidence back and threw his shirt to the side. Izo looked on intrigued as he started to open his trousers.

Thatch noticed and slowed down his movements. "I should hope you don't ogle all of your models like this," he said teasingly.

"I'm not ogling. I'm just trying to determine what would be your best side. From an artistic point of view," Izo hastily added.

Thatch hummed, but didn't sound convinced. "Alright, what do you think is my best side, then?"

Izo sighed. "All of you."

Thatch grinned and dropped his underwear.

Izo's lips curled into a smirk. "At least we don't have to worry about shrinkage if it gets cold in here," he said with a wink.

_Now_ he was ogling. Thatch had a fantastic body. Tight muscles, abs, well-hung…

"So how do you want me?" Thatch interrupted his thoughts.

"You really shouldn't make such suggestive remarks when you're standing naked before me," Izo said with a groan.

"Don't you paint a lot of people naked?" Thatch said with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, but they're not _you_."

Thatch smiled pleased and lay down on the couch. "Something like this?" he asked, as he propped himself up on one elbow and bended one of his legs so his knee was pointing up.

"Well, it has to be a pose that you can keep for several hour and that isn't too hard to take on again after a break," Izo said.

Thatch moved a bit until he was lying comfortable. "Like this?"

"Turn your head a little more towards me. A little more. Just wait." Izo rose again and walked over to Thatch. He moved some of Thatch's limbs a bit, took a step back and looked critically. He changed Thatch's pose a little until he was pleased and then took a seat on his chair again.

It was going to be really hard to concentrate – no pun intended – when Thatch was lying there, all naked and sexy.

Izo forced himself into artist mode and started to sketch. Every once in a while, he asked Thatch to move a bit, mostly because Thatch wasn't one to lie still for a very long time. He would have to, though, once Izo had made a sketch he was pleased with.

Thatch also wasn't one to keep silent for long. He soon started talking about random things, stuff that happened at work or when he was out with friends. Izo didn't mind. When he talked, at least Thatch lied still.

Izo tuned out the words because he needed his concentration, but Thatch's baritone was very soothing and excellent to work with.

He hadn't realised how many hours had passed, until there was a knock on his door and his butler came in. Thatch hastily covered his private parts with a pillow.

"Shit Cook wants to know if your guest is staying for dinner," Zoro said. He was never one to be overly polite, and certainly not when it came to Izo's chef.

Thatch seemed surprised by the way he phrased it, but Izo merely shrugged and looked at Thatch. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Ehm, sure," Thatch replied, obviously taken aback by the casual reply.

Izo turned to Zoro. "Could you pass that on?"

When Zoro nodded curtly and left, Izo closed his sketchbook. "I think that's enough for today."

"This was… normal?" Thatch asked, surprised, as he started dressing again.

"My butler and my chef don't really get along," Izo said with a shrug, "or, get along too well, depending on your point of view."

Thatch looked at him confusedly, and Izo waggled with his eyebrow suggestively.

"Ah," Thatch said. "And you're okay with that?"

"What they do in their free time is their business," Izo said.

"He doesn't look like the typical butler, though."

"He isn't, but I suppose that's part of his charm. He's brutally honest, which I find refreshing. I just wish he'd stop getting lost inside the house." Izo sighed, but made a dismissive gesture when Thatch looked at him. "Never mind. Would you like to see the sketches?"

Thatch just buttoned up his shirt and nodded.

Izo picked up his sketchbook and sat down next to him on the couch Thatch had just been lying on. He flipped through the pages. While Thatch said he loved all of them, it didn't take too long for them to decide their favourite.

When Izo closed his sketchbook, he became painfully aware how close Thatch was sitting and how limited the distance between their lips. Thatch smiled at him and slowly leaned in.

When they were mere inches apart, Izo placed his finger on Thatch's lips. "Didn't we decide to wait?"

Thatch huffed annoyed and pulled back. "How long will it take to finish the painting?"

"As long as you want it to take."

Thatch cocked his head to the side.

"For now, you're being paid to spend time with me," Izo said with a shrug.

"I'd prefer to be paid to kiss you." When Izo raised an eyebrow, he hastily said, "That came out wrong! But you know what I mean."

"I do." Izo sighed. "And believe me, I understand your frustration. But I can't be fondling my models now, can I?"

"Nobody would know," Thatch protested.

Izo smiled and rose, stretching out his hand. "Come, why don't I give you a tour through the house?"

Thatch pouted slightly, but did take Izo's hand.

Izo showed him around and told a little about the history of the house. Thatch listened, asking questions every now and then. However, he seemed particularly interested in the bedroom, and Izo jabbed him in the side with his elbow. "Behave."

Finally, Zoro called dinner was served, and they made their way to the dining room. Izo's chef, Sanji, explained what they would eat, every once in a while interrupted by a snide remark from Zoro, which was countered every time by a series of creative insults. Izo was completely unfazed by the behaviour of his employees, but Thatch followed the exchange of banter with interest.

Finally, Sanji wished them bon appetit and retreated to the kitchen, followed by Zoro.

Thatch complimented the food, but said he also looked forward to cook for Izo himself. They talked for hours, long after the food was gone. There were more than a few accidental touches, like when they both grabbed at the wine bottle at the same time.

It felt even more like a date than the first time they dined together – in hindsight, Izo could hardly call that a business dinner. Izo was desperately thinking up excuses to make Thatch stay, but late in the evening, Thatch announced he would leave anyway.

Izo walked him to the door reluctantly. Thatch would be back the next day, but still, Izo loved spending time with him.

Thatch turned around, smiling at him as he leaned in.

Izo was torn between stopping him and just letting him do it, when Thatch suddenly change course and kissed Izo's cheek, next to his lips.

"Goodnight," he whispered and pulled the door shut behind him.

Izo could only nod and mumble, "Night." He leaned against the closed doors and sighed. Thatch was too smooth for his own good.

* * *

The next two weeks were both the longest and the shortest of Thatch's life. Time flew by when he was with Izo, but not being allowed to touch him, despite the fact that they both wanted it, was plain torture.

After Izo was done sketching on paper, he lightly drew the lines on the canvas. Only then he started to paint. They couldn't work all day every day, because the different layers of paint needed to dry before Izo could continue.

They spent the time they had to wait with talking, walks through the garden or other thing couples did – yes, as far as Thatch was concerned, they were a couple. Just one that didn't touch each other much, which became harder and harder with each passing second.

It was really interesting to see Izo's painting process, though. He had seen Izo's paintings and thought they were good, very good, even, but he had never considered how much work went into them. He could only respect Izo – and all other artists – for it.

It was also strange to see himself slowly appear on the canvas, naked. It wasn't something he would like to hang on the wall in his house, but it sure was impressive how Izo managed to paint him lifelike. Aside from some occasional teasing and longing looks, Izo behaved like a professional, looking at Thatch's naked form critically, the same way he would look at a bowl of fruit, no doubt.

Some days, Izo invited him to stay for dinner, but Thatch tried to limit those evenings as much as possible. Not because he didn't enjoy them, on the contrary, he liked Sanji's food and Izo even more. But Izo was like a forbidden fruit, and Thatch wasn't sure how long he could keep his hands to himself. He had managed quite well, if he said so himself, though.

Finally, after two weeks of lying naked on a couch, Izo took a step back from the canvas and looked from it to Thatch, stroking his chin.

"Yes, I'm finished," he said.

Thatch picked up the sheet that was lying ready, wrapping it around him for modesty, and walked over to the painting. "Wow," he said, "that looks amazing."

Izo smiled, pleased. "I agree. I'm glad I get to keep it." He looked at Thatch teasingly.

Thatch just smirked. "I'm just glad you're finished, because now I can do this." With that, he leaned in and kissed Izo's lips. It was nothing more than a brief brush, but before he could pull back, Izo wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close.

After all this time of longing looks and innocent touches, kissing Izo was heavenly. Thatch's hands pulled the hair band gently out of Izo's hair, and he intertwined his fingers with the strands. His sheet fell down at some point, but neither of them paid attention to it.

Finally, Izo let go of him, placing his forehead against Thatch's and making a pleased sound.

Thatch could feel rather than see him smirk against his skin.

"You're naked."

"I've been naked almost the whole time I was here," Thatch replied. "You, on the other hand, are completely dressed."

"Then one of us should change something." Izo took his hand and pulled Thatch with him to the couch. There, he started kissing him again.

Thatch placed his hands on Izo's hips, pulling him into his lap.

Izo sighed happily, but suddenly pulled back. He looked down, and it took Thatch a moment to realise he was looking at Thatch's chest and not lower – fortunately. On Thatch's skin, there were several coloured stains, transferred paint from Izo's clothes.

"I'm sorry," Izo said and moved off Thatch's lap, much to his dismay. "I'd better change before you're completely covered in paint." He kissed Thatch again as he rose from the couch. "Why don't you go wash yourself? You remember where the bathroom is, right?"

Thatch nodded and started putting on his underwear, staring after Izo's retreating form as he disappeared behind the folding screen. He was a little disappointed, but the night was still young and from now on, they had all the time in the world.

Thatch made his way upstairs where one of the bathrooms was – Izo actually had several, but he really only used this one. Thatch had slung his shirt over his shoulder and walked shirtless through the house, but he didn't meet anyone. Izo didn't have that much staff; Zoro was there most of the day and so was Sanji, and several times a week, a maid came to clean. Other than that, they were usually pretty much alone.

In the bathroom, Thatch looked at himself in the mirror. His lips were red and slightly swollen, and he couldn't help but smirk. He took a washcloth and started washing the paint off his chest. Fortunately, it hadn't had the chance to dry yet and came off easily.

When he was done, he put on his shirt, but instead of going back to the studio, he made his way to the kitchen, where Sanji was flipping through a cookbook.

"Hey," Thatch greeted him and hesitated for a moment before continuing, "how would you like to have the night off?"

Sanji raised an oddly curled eyebrow. "You wanna cook?"

Thatch had had a few conversations about food with Sanji, but he never seemed eager to leave someone else in charge of his kitchen.

"You'd have time to do something fun. With Zoro, for example," Thatch suggested.

Sanji narrowed his eyes and huffed. "Why would I want to spend time with that idiot Moss-head? Well, fine," he sighed when Thatch looked at him pleadingly, "but if I find one thing out of place when I come back, I'll have your head."

"Thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah," Sanji muttered as he closed the cookbook. "Oi, Moss-head! The boss wants some privacy!" he called into the hall.

There was some cursing, and after a few minutes – the house wasn't _that_ big, but Izo had been right, Zoro had the tendency to get lost easily – Zoro appeared into the kitchen. "The hell did you say?!"

It took another few minutes to get rid of them both, while they hadn't stopped arguing, and Thatch finally could start cooking. He turned up his sleeves and checked what kind of ingredients there were in the house. Sanji kept everything well-stocked and neatly organised, so everything could be found easily.

Thatch started humming as he cooked, what soon turned in to loud singing of a love song. He could keep denying it, or claim it was too soon, but it was still true: he was in love with Izo.

"Something smells nice," Izo's voice suddenly sounded behind him.

Thatch turned around and smirked. Izo had changed into a simple, but pretty yukata and had reapplied his make-up, which had been smudged slightly after their make out session.

"I've taken the liberty of sending your staff home," Thatch said with a sheepish smile.

Izo chuckled. "Well, that saves me the trouble of doing it myself. I had hoped I would find you here. After all that bragging you did, I'm dying to find out if anything of that is true," he said teasingly.

Thatch grinned. "I'm about to knock your socks off." He picked of the wooden spoon he used for stirring, took out a little of the sauce and held out the spoon for Izo to taste, holding his hand underneath it to prevent spilling.

Izo took a small bite and made a surprised sound. "This is amazing."

Thatch smirked. "Told ya." He tapped against the corner of his mouth. "You have a little something there."

"Here?" Izo licked his lips.

"A little more to the right. Here, let me get it." Thatch leaned in and kissed the corner of Izo's mouth. Izo wrapped his arms around his neck to kiss him properly. Thatch happily complied.

Suddenly, Izo let go of him. "Your sauce!"

Thatch cursed and hastily turned down the stove.

Izo chuckled. "I'll stop distracting you then."

"I don't mind," Thatch said sheepishly.

"I do when it ruins food like this." Izo kissed his cheek and left the kitchen.

Thatch was a little disappointed, but it was probably for the best. Izo was too much of a distraction, and the food deserved his undivided attention.

When he had finished and carried a damping dish to the dining room, it turned out that Izo had already set the table.

The dinner was lovely. Izo kept complimenting the food, casting warm looks at Thatch, and had his foot far up Thatch's pant leg.

After they had finished desert, Izo put up some music, and they ended up dancing, Izo's arms around his neck, and his hands on Izo's hips.

"Would you like to spend the night here?" Izo whispered in his ear.

Thatch couldn't suppress a shiver that went down his spine and nodded a little too quickly.

Izo just smiled and took him by the hand, leading him to the bedroom. Thatch had only been there once, when Izo had given him a tour through the house. There was a large four-poster bed against the wall, and a door to a walk-in closet of which Thatch hadn't seen the inside. There was also a folding screen, similar to the one in the studio, but more beautifully decorated.

"I have a toothbrush and such set ready in the bathroom," Izo said. When Thatch raised an eyebrow, Izo smirked. "After everything that happened in the past two weeks, I didn't think you'd say no. And if you did, you would have never found out anyway." He gave Thatch a kiss before retreating behind the folding screen.

Thatch walked to the bathroom, where a toothbrush and towels were indeed lying ready. Izo must have arranged that while he was busy cooking.

He passed Izo in the hallway when he was on his way back to the bedroom. Izo had changed and was now wearing a bathrobe.

In the bedroom, Thatch stripped to his underwear and sat down on the bed. The mattress was soft and springy. Thatch let himself fall back and moaned. This must be the best bed he had ever laid on.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Izo suddenly said.

Thatch sat upright. Izo was leaning against the doorframe, looking quite amused. It was the first time Thatch saw him without make-up, but he was looking as beautiful as with it.

"I wanted to show you something, but if you're having fun all by yourself…" Izo studied his nails.

"Show me?" Thatch asked confusedly.

"Well, since you've been naked for most of the time we know each other," Izo untied the band keeping his robe together slowly, and Thatch could only stare at his hands, "I figured I'd return the favour." He threw open his robe, letting it drop on the ground. He was wearing nothing underneath.

Thatch rose, never taking his eye off Izo's body, and walked over to him.

Izo wrapped his arms around him as soon as he was close enough and pulled him into a kiss. Thatch's hands roamed Izo's body, touching every inch within reach.

Izo's fingers hooked around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down.

Thatch moaned, deepening the kiss. He couldn't say he had expected any of this to happen when he arrived at Izo's mansion that morning – though, he hadn't necessarily known the painting would be done yet – but he was pleased it did.

They moved back to the bed. Thatch felt his back hit the mattress, but as great as it had felt before, now that Izo was lying on top of him, it felt a million times better.

Their bodies moved together in rhythm, both trying to gain as much physical contact as possible. Izo moaned, and Thatch didn't think he had ever heard a sexier sound. Izo's hand slid down, wrapping around the both of them. Thatch's hips jerked as he pulled Izo closer against him.

It didn't take long for either for them to reach their climax.

Spent, Izo rolled off him, sighing pleased. "That was amazing." He turned and let himself be pulled into Thatch's arms.

"I agree," Thatch murmured, before his lips were claimed again. Izo's hands moved up his thighs, cupping his ass, until he reached the bottom of Thatch's spine.

Suddenly, Izo pulled back a little, but stayed in his arms. "I didn't know you had a seastone."

Thatch raised his eyebrow, confused about the sudden change of subject. "It's not a big deal."

"When did you get it?"

"Like everyone, when I was a baby." Thatch leaned in to kiss him again, but Izo pulled back.

"So you have no idea what your powers are?" he pressed.

Thatch sighed, slightly annoyed. "No, nor do I care. I'm completely normal, so you have nothing to worry about."

Izo sat up slightly. "You think I fear you?"

Thatch shrugged. "Why else would you care?"

"I'm sorry, I was just curious." Izo looked away. "You're not comfortable talking about this, are you?"

"It's just something you don't talk about," Thatch replied.

"I'm sorry," Izo replied and kissed Thatch's lips. "I won't bring it up again."

Thatch nodded pleased and pulled Izo close.

"Good night," Izo whispered. He clapped his hands, and the lights turned off.

Thatch immediately froze. "Please put them back on."

Izo did as he asked. "Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.

"I…" Thatch looked away.

"Thatch?" Izo pressed, touching his shoulder gently.

Thatch sighed. "Don't laugh at me. I just… I can't stand the dark."

"You're afraid of the dark?" Izo asked.

Thatch kept silent.

"It's okay," Izo said soothingly and turned on the light on the nightstand, before clapping his hands again. "Is this good?"

Thatch nodded. "Thank you. For understanding."

Izo smiled. "Of course."

Thatch pulled him close again. With the small light on the nightstand, it didn't take long for him to fall asleep.

When he woke up again the next morning, Izo was still fast asleep, curled up in his arms. Thatch smiled and kissed the top of his head. Izo mumbled something he didn't understand.

"How about I go take a shower and bring you breakfast in bed after that?" Thatch whispered.

"Okay," Izo muttered, but something told Thatch he hadn't quite followed the plan, because Izo wrapped his arm around his torso and pulled him close.

Chuckling, Thatch pried himself loose from Izo's hold and rolled off the bed, careful not to wake him. At the door, he cast a look over his shoulder, but Izo had already rolled to the warm spot Thatch had left. Smiling, Thatch made his way to the bathroom. He was still naked, but he doubted anyone would be here yet at this hour. Izo was obviously not a morning person.

Thatch showered quickly, smiling when he smelled Izo's fancy shampoo. It smelled like Izo's hair.

Whistling, Thatch dried himself off and returned to the bedroom with the towel wrapped around his waist.

Izo was still lying in bed, his back turned to the door.

Thatch started dressing, but when he picked up his shirt, he noted a stain he hadn't seen yesterday. It probably had happened when he was cooking.

"Izo, do you have a shirt I could borrow?" he asked.

Izo barely stirred. "Hm? Check the closet," he replied, his voice hoarse from sleep.

Thatch opened the door to the walk in closet and walked inside, when Izo suddenly sat up. "Wait, no!" he called, now awake.

Thatch turned around confusedly. "Why?" He peered into the closet. It was filled with clothes, as expected, but against the back wall, there were several paintings standing. "Are these yours?" He turned to the bed.

Izo was sitting up in bed, pale and his eyes wide.

Thatch looked back at the paintings. The one in front was definitely not Izo's style. Thatch had had two weeks to study Izo's painting process and paintings intensively. This one didn't fit into that. He pulled it forward and looked at the next. That one also didn't look like something Izo would paint.

"Thatch, please. I'll get you a shirt," Izo all but begged.

He had never before showed a reluctance to show Thatch any of his works, so why now? Though, now that Thatch thought about it, the painting looked somewhat familiar. He looked at the next one, ignoring Izo's pleas. That one looked familiar as well, but from where?

Suddenly, it hit him. All these paintings had been in the news. His eyes widened.

"Thatch!" Izo had put on his robe and was standing behind him. "You shouldn't snoop around."

"How did you get these paintings?" Thatch asked softly.

"I… acquired them."

"How? By stealing them?" Thatch's voice was suddenly sharp.

Izo paled even more. "I'm not the art thief, if that's what you're implying."

"Then how did you get them? Here, this one," he picked up a small painting, "I just read in the paper it had mysteriously found its way back to its owners. How come _you_ have it?"

"I…"

Thatch had never seen Izo speechless before, and it frightened him. It strengthened his fear that Izo might not be the upstanding citizen he had thought he was.

Finally, Izo spoke again, evading eye contact. "This is the real one."

Thatch almost dropped the painting. "You… forged it?" he whispered.

"Thatch, please," Izo tried.

"Why?" he demanded. "What would drive you to do something like that? You have someone stealing them and then forge them? You're already rich! Or is this how you got your money in the first place?"

"It's not!" Izo sighed. "I don't expect you to understand. You should know by now that I hate the art world, the pretentiousness that surrounds it. I can't escape it, but I can stir up some unrest. I don't care about the money, though. It all goes to charity."

"That doesn't make it okay!" Thatch all but shouted. Izo's logic eluded him. "You have art stolen to stir up trouble? You're a famous artist!"

"I'm just the next new thing. People don't like my art, they like the status they gain from owning it," Izo said bitterly.

"Nothing you're saying changes the fact that you're nothing more than a common criminal," Thatch spat. "You're nothing like I thought you were. I admired you, the way you seemed to hold your own in a world that would eat you alive if you relaxed only a little. I was proud to experience your painting process, to be part of your life. But you're not worth that."

Izo looked like he had just been hit in the face.

Thatch passed him and grabbed his shirt from the floor. He didn't care about the stain anymore; he just needed to leave.

"Thatch!"

He didn't look around. "This isn't going to work."

"Are you going to report me?" Izo asked in a small voice.

"No," Thatch replied after a moment of thought, "but you should." He finally looked over his shoulder. Izo was looking like he could cry at any moment, but Thatch knew he wouldn't, not while he was still here. Not that Thatch cared, as he wouldn't be persuaded by tears anyway.

Without another word, Thatch left the room, leaving Izo behind. After spending two weeks with him – two amazing weeks, Thatch might add – he had never suspected Izo was actually a criminal, one in league with the infamous art thief.

On his way to his car, Thatch suddenly stopped in his tracks. Ace was convinced the art thefts were done by the Phoenix. Did that mean Izo was working with him?

* * *

Ace woke up with a start. He was lying on a bed, but it was definitely not in his own room.

His eyes widened when the events from that night came back to him. He had caught the Phoenix!

Well, sort of. Technically, he hadn't been in control for a second, after jumping on his back.

Ace had thought of becoming a security guard in the museum soon after his first – or, technically, second – encounter with the Phoenix. The cop, Smoker, had required more proof that the Phoenix was the art thief, as he hadn't found much in the hotel room to implicate someone and he still didn't seem convinced that Ace actually saw the Phoenix at all.

Still, Ace wasn't willing to give up and he would get the proof he needed. Art thieves came where art was, right? So the museum seemed like a logical place to start, not in the least because the Phoenix had robbed it several times before.

The director of the museum, Ms Robin Nico, hadn't taken long to agree in hiring Ace to be a security guard. She was old school, and preferred humans over security cameras and other technological devices. Besides, the Phoenix had already proven that he could evade them.

After a week and a half of nothing happening, that night he had finally caught a glimpse of a blue flame. And that was when he confronted the Phoenix.

He had hoped to at least surprise the Phoenix, but he had just seemed bored, much to Ace's annoyance. He had, however, surprised the Phoenix by jumping on his back. The Phoenix had tried to shake him off, but Ace was proud to recall he had held on.

Until he had fallen asleep.

Ace smacked himself against his forehead. What a time for his narcolepsy to kick in. The Phoenix had already showed he had no qualms against throwing Ace off a roof – though, Ace remembered, he had flown low over roofs so Ace wouldn't fall too far if he fell off. Had he thrown Ace off after he noticed that Ace wasn't holding on as tightly anymore?

Ace didn't feel sore and didn't seem to have bruises, so at least the Phoenix would have been careful. But where the hell was Ace then?

He pulled the curtain a little aside, blinking against the bright light. He didn't recognise where he was, but he had to be somewhere on the second or third floor of a building.

Suddenly, his eye caught sight of a blue sash that was draped over a chair. The colour looked familiar. It was the same colour of the Phoenix' flames! Now Ace thought about it, the Phoenix had worn it tied around his waist when Ace picked him up.

So he was still in the house of the Phoenix! Or at least one of them. They weren't in a hotel this time, nor in the house the Phoenix had brought him when he was a child.

The bastard had kidnapped him!

Ace ran to the door and started banging on the wood with his fist. "You bastard! Let me out right now!"

The doorknob turned, and Ace had to jump back when the door opened.

The Phoenix appeared in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. "You could try the doorknob next time."

"Why the hell would you leave the door open after kidnapping me?!" Ace shouted.

"I didn't kidnap you. If I recall correctly, you jumped on _my_ back and wouldn't let go. You should be happy I didn't throw you off then," the Phoenix replied, arms crossed before his chest.

"Oh yes, _thank you_ for not trying to kill me again," Ace sneered.

The Phoenix sighed. "Alright, I admit that throwing you off the roof wasn't my most tactful move. But it was crawling with police officers down there, so the chance you'd be caught was very high!"

"As was the chance of breaking my neck!"

"You're right. I'm sorry." The Phoenix pursed his lips. "I just hadn't expected you to be there, so I had to improvise."

"Aha!" Ace called out. "So I did surprise you!"

"You did back then. No one was supposed to know it was me who stole the art," the Phoenix said as he leaned against the doorframe. "How did you, though?"

Ace shrugged. "I followed your career."

"I'm flattered," the Phoenix replied with a smirk.

"Don't be," Ace snapped. "I only did it so I could expose you! You represent everything that's wrong with this world! You're a monster and you're actually proud of it!"

The Phoenix waited patiently until he was done ranting. "You're wrong," he finally said. "Not about the proud part, because I am proud of my powers. They're beautiful and they have saved my life more than once. But I am not a monster."

"Of course you are! You have powers and you flaunt them, instead of being a decent citizen and getting rid of them!" Ace said.

The Phoenix sighed and turned around.

Ace blinked in confusion when he lifted up the back of his shirt and showed his lower back, but he gasped when he saw the small scar at the bottom of his spine. "How…?"

"How can I have a seastone scar _and_ have my powers?" The Phoenix turned around again. "I got a seastone implant when I was a child, a little younger than you were. But then I was adopted by a man who was able to remove it."

"You're lying!" Ace immediately replied. "It's impossible to remove a seastone and not die or be paralysed!"

"Does it look like I'm lying?" The Phoenix held out his hand and immediately, blue flames licked his skin.

Ace stared at them in fascination, like he had done ten years ago, until he remembered where he was. "You could have gotten that scar anywhere," he snapped.

"Why would I lie?"

"I don't know! Maybe you're trying to confuse me, or you have a weird sense of humour! There is obviously something wrong with you seeing you kidnapped me!" Ace was panting in anger.

The Phoenix stared at him for a moment and then stepped aside. "I told you, I didn't kidnap you. You're free to go when you please. Just try the doorknob next time." He smirked.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Ace snapped, but then hesitated for a moment. "Why bring me here?" he asked.

The Phoenix sighed. "I couldn't leave you. Not again. It's my fault you are how you are in the first place. I shouldn't have left you alone that night."

"I told you, leaving me was the best decision you ever made!" Ace stormed past the Phoenix into the living room of the apartment he was apparently at. He needed to get out of there. The Phoenix was lying! It was impossible to have your seastone removed. Not that Ace would even want his powers back, even if it was possible. He didn't want to be a monster.

"Ace."

Something in his voice made Ace stop in his tracks.

"Do you miss your powers?"

Ace stood frozen. He hadn't expected that question, and whether he liked it or not, his mind drifted back to the time when he had had his powers. How fire would flare up from his body when he wanted it to. How he had never been cold. How the red flames mixed with the blue ones of the Phoenix…

He hadn't noticed the Phoenix coming closer and he startled when he started to speak.

"Even if I can take a phoenix' form, my powers are those of healing," he said. "When I had the implant, I was often sick and my wounds barely healed. You, you were fire. You shouldn't be wearing several sweaters to stay warm."

Ace swallowed hard. He felt the Phoenix' hand lightly touch his back, and his warmth radiated through the several layers of clothing he was wearing.

"If it were possible, wouldn't you want your powers back?" the Phoenix whispered.

Ace closed his eyes, imagining fire running through his veins like it used to. The heat, the power he had felt…

Brusquely, he shook his head. He couldn't let himself be seduced by such thoughts. The Phoenix was just trying to confuse him. It was impossible to get his powers back, and even if it were possible, he would never go back to being the monster he used to be.

He walked to the door, but hesitated when he reached for the doorknob. "This man you claim to have removed your seastone, where is he?"

The Phoenix was silent for a moment. "He is been in prison since I was fifteen."

"How convenient, no one to collaborate your story," Ace sneered. Without looking back, he pulled the door shut behind him.

The Phoenix didn't follow him, nor did he call after him. It would seem that he actually didn't have the intention of kidnapping him after all.

Ace left the building and looked around. He still had no idea where he was, but he found a bus stop close by. The bus route took him back to his house, apparently on the other end of the city.

He now knew two of the Phoenix' hideouts, yet he didn't really feel like going back to the police. Technically, he still didn't have any proof that the Phoenix was the art thief, aside from his own account. He probably wasn't the most reliable witness.

Aside from that, the Phoenix had confused him. He had looked sincere when he talked about his seastone, and had sounded sad when he talked about the man who raised him. Ace didn't know why he would lie, even if it was obvious that he did. It was impossible to remove a seastone.

Or maybe the Phoenix wasn't paralysed because he had powers of healing? Though, he still had that scar…

Ace groaned. He was so confused right now, not to mention tired.

Fuck.

How the hell would he convince Ms Nico that he hadn't just disappeared with the painting last night? She would probably think _he _was the art thief.

Hastily, Ace took out his phone. Much to his dismay, he saw he had several missed calls from Robin. With trembling fingers, he dialled the number.

"Good morning, Mr Portgas," Ms Nico greeted him. "I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

"I'm not fleeing town, if that's what you think," Ace hastily said.

"Then where is my painting?"

Ace sighed. Of course she had noticed right away. "I don't know," he said, in all honesty. He had no idea what the Phoenix had done with it after he had fallen asleep. He hadn't seen it inside the apartment, though he couldn't say he looked very hard. "I went after the thief, but…" He trailed off. Why did it suddenly feel wrong to rat the Phoenix out?

"Yes?" she encouraged him to continue.

He sighed. "I lost him. I'm sorry."

It stayed silent on the other end of the line for a moment. "Well then," Robin finally said, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go."

"I understand."

"Goodbye, Mr Portgas." With that, she hung up.

Somehow, Ace had the feeling she knew more than she let on, but he didn't know how or why. The fact that she had just fired him and not sent the police after him relieved him, though. Well, perhaps she had, but somehow, Ace had the feeling she would have given him a head's up if that was the case.

Still, he wondered why he hadn't told her it was the Phoenix who had stolen the painting. Perhaps he first wanted to find out if the Phoenix had been telling the truth.

He wasn't sure where he would even begin to search, though. The Phoenix hadn't revealed anything about himself.

Except that the man who had raised him had been in prison since he was fifteen. How old was the Phoenix, thirty? Ace could look for newspaper articles at work! There had to be something about an arrest in old papers. After all, if that man had been locked up for fifteen years, he had to have done something bad.

At his work placement, Ace used all his breaks to search old newspaper articles, but he couldn't find anything. Usopp offered his assistance, but Ace didn't feel like sharing his goal. It would only lead to a lot of questions and sighs on Usopp's end, so Ace dismissed him with a vague story about one of the journalists needing Ace's help.

It was already late when he started to become desperate. Everyone else had already left; only in the office of the senior editor the light was still on.

Ace sighed and decided to call it a day. His narcolepsy was threatening to kick it at any moment, and he really had no idea if he would even come up with something.

"You're here late," the senior editor, Mr Silvers, said as he left his office, carrying a briefcase. "Hot story?"

"Something like that," Ace muttered.

Mr Silvers glanced at the old newspapers that were stacked on Ace's desk. "What are you looking for, boy?"

Ace hesitated for a moment, not knowing if he could tell Mr Silvers. He was a very nice man, but that didn't mean Ace fully trusted him. Still, he decided, there really wasn't much to tell, because he had nothing to go on. And perhaps a seasoned journalist like Mr Silvers knew something about an old trial.

"I'm looking for someone who was arrested about fifteen years ago," he began. "I don't know his name, or what he has done, though. Just that he is still in prison."

Mr Silvers raised his eyebrow. "What brought up this search?"

"Just following a lead," Ace said vaguely.

Mr Silvers hummed, but didn't press. However, he did start to search through the stack of papers Ace had obtained from the archive, muttering something under his breath. Finally, he made a triumphant sound and fished a paper from the stack. "Perhaps this is what you're looking for." He handed Ace the paper.

On the front page, the headline read, 'Edward N. arrested for crimes against the government'. There was a picture beneath it of a man with long hair and a strange looking moustache who was being cuffed by police officers.

Ace looked up at Mr Silvers. "You think I'm looking for this Edward N.?"

Mr Silvers shrugged. "Perhaps. I'm not going to do your work for you, boy." He left with a wave of his hand and called over his shoulder, "Make sure all these papers are cleaned up by tomorrow morning."

Musing, Ace stared at the picture in the paper. Was this Edward N. the man he was looking for? The man who had raised the Phoenix?

Suddenly, his eye fell on a small figure in the corner of the photo. It was a boy, about fifteen years old, but it was unmistakably the same person as the Phoenix.

The boy was being held back by another officer while Edward was being led away. Edward himself, however, didn't look too upset.

Ace stared at the Phoenix for a while. He was looking rather cute, actually. It was too bad he would become a criminal. Like his father, apparently.

He would have to find out more about this Edward fellow, though. If he was real, perhaps the Phoenix had spoken the truth.

He searched for information all night, drinking ridiculous amounts of coffee to stay awake, and it was already morning when he remembered to clean up the papers before the others would get there.

It had been definitely worth it, though. He had found out the man's name was Edward Newgate and he was locked up in the maximum-security prison Impel Down. It wasn't much of a surprise, since Edward was accused for crimes against the state – the exact nature of his crimes was a bit shady, though – but it was good to have confirmation.

For once in his life, it came in handy he was related to Gramps. Garp Monkey had taken him in when Ace was thirteen and had received his seastone implant. Ace had then also met Luffy, Garp's grandson.

Garp had insisted Ace became a government official like himself, but thanks to Ace's anonymous sponsor, he had been able to study journalism like he wanted.

Now, however, Ace could use Garp's name to try to get into Impel Down. He had to talk to Edward Newgate, to see if anything the Phoenix had told him was true. Magallan, the warden of the prison, wasn't convinced by Ace's story, however, and he called Garp to confirm it. In turn, Garp called to yell at Ace, because that was all he ever did. Finally, Ace managed to convince him he was doing an article on the government's greatest threats, and yes, he was considering working for the government.

Somehow, it worked, and now Ace was standing in front of the best guarded prison in the world, about to meet one of the greatest criminals of all time.

Edward Newgate had grown a lot older since the picture in the newspaper. He had lost his long hair, but his strange white moustache was still in place. Both his wrists and ankles were shacked in seastone cuffs.

Ace looked at his own handcuffs. Because it was his first time in the prison, he had to wear them, to be safe, even though he had shown his scar left by the seastone implant. The cuffs didn't have any effect on him, however.

Ace picked up the receiver of the phone on his side of the glass, while Edward Newgate did the same on his side.

"Well, hello, son," Edward said cheerfully, as if he had expected Ace.

Ace narrowed his eyes. "Don't call me that," he spat.

Edward just seemed amused.

"I'm here to talk about the Ph–" Abruptly, Ace stopped talking. Their conversation was no doubt recorded, so it was unlikely that Edward would tell him the truth. "To talk about Marco," he finished, hoping Edward would know whom he meant. After all, he had no idea if the Phoenix had told him his real name.

"I figured as much," Edward replied. "Trouble in paradise?"

Ace stared at him for a moment. How would he know…? Unless the Phoenix regularly walked into the prison…

How stupid could the government be?!

"We're not dating," he spat. "I would never date someone like him!"

Edward pursed his lips. "That's too bad. But perhaps you'll change your mind. He is a good man."

"Yeah, right." Ace snorted.

"What would you like to know, son?"

"I told you, I'm not your son! And what I wanted to know…" Ace hesitated. He could hardly come out and ask straight away if Edward could remove seastones. The guards would be on them right away. "I wanted to know if what he says about you is true. That you can, er, find pearls?" He tried to look meaningfully through the glass, hoping that Edward would understand what he was saying.

"Would you be interested in pearls then, my boy?" Edward smiled at him.

Ace could feel his cheeks flush. "No! Maybe. I don't know. It's not like it matters, anyway, since you're in here for the rest of your life."

Edward hummed and smiled. "Have you ever thought of getting a dog?" he suddenly asked.

Ace looked at him confusedly. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Edward just smiled mysteriously. "I think visiting hour is over. It was really great to speak to you in person, son." He hung up the phone and gestured for the guard to come get him, while Ace stared confusedly after him.

Now he still didn't know if the Phoenix had spoken the truth.

* * *

Marco didn't bother to look up when the bell above the door tingled and just continued to gently brush one of the rabbits. "We're about to close."

When there was no reply, he looked up from the bunny, and immediately froze, just like the person in the doorway. "How did you find me?" he finally asked sharply.

"You work here?" Ace all but shrieked.

Marco looked at him confusedly. "You… didn't know that? Then how the hell did you find me?"

"I didn't!" Ace thought for a moment. "Okay, obviously, I did, but I wasn't looking for you!"

Carefully, Marco lifted up the bunny and placed it back in its cage, before turning to Ace. "Then you just happened to walk into the animal shelter I work at?"

"It's not like there are many animal shelters in this city," Ace snapped.

"So, what? You're looking for an animal?"

Ace evaded his glance, looking at the wall in front of him. "I… I found your father."

Marco narrowed his eyes. How would Ace know? He hadn't revealed much about himself, had he? "How?" he asked.

"You said he had been in prison since you were fifteen. I guessed your age and started looking for a newspaper article about an arrest."

A small smirk appeared on Marco's face. "How old do you think I am?"

"Does it matter? I found him and I talked to him," Ace snapped.

"How the hell did you get into Impel Down like that?"

"I have my ways."

Marco sighed. He wasn't sure why he had expected straight answers. And Ace was right; these questions were hardly important. What was important, however, was Pops. "What did he say to you?"

Ace took a deep breath. "I wanted to know if you lied to me. Unfortunately, he didn't give me a straight answer. He just asked if I would be interested."

"Would you be?" Marco asked.

Ace gave him a deadly glare. "Is that really what you should be worried about now? Anyway, he asked me if I had ever thought about getting a dog. I didn't know what he meant, so I checked every place they sell dogs."

Marco sighed. "Dammit, Pops," he muttered.

"Don't get me wrong. If I'd known you'd be here, I would have come as well. With backup."

Marco snorted and then smirked. "Well, that does mean you're all alone now, doesn't it?"

Blenheim chose that moment to exit his office. "Ah, a late customer," he said, slightly surprised.

"I'll deal with him. You go home," Marco replied, without taking his eyes of Ace.

Blenheim nodded, but stopped next to Marco and muttered, "You really have been spending a lot of time here, you know. And he's kind of cute."

Marco's eyes widened, and he turned away from Ace. "No. No way. That wouldn't work out," he hissed.

"So you know him. Why wouldn't it?"

Marco sighed. "It's complicated."

Blenheim rolled his eyes. "You kids _make_ it complicated."

Marco snorted at being called a kid and said goodbye to Blenheim, before turning back to Ace.

Ace had either not heard the conversation or pretended not to have, and was busy having a staring contest with a parrot – and losing.

Marco sighed and walked over to the dogs, which were jumping excitedly.

"What are you doing?" Ace asked.

"It's time to walk the dogs," he merely replied with a shrug.

"I know your secret, several of your hideouts and where you work, and it's dogs you're worried about?!"

Marco sighed again and turned to him, petting Stefan when he jumped up against him. "Pops obviously trusted you enough to tell you where I work. Then why shouldn't I?" He moved to the counter to get the leashes.

"That's it? Because your old man, who barely spoke with me for five minutes, trusts me, you do too?" Despite his rant, Ace knelt down to pet Stefan, only to have his face thoroughly licked. He laughed.

Marco smiled. Ace did look kind of cute like this. "What can I say? Pops has good instincts when it comes to people. So does Stefan."

Ace wiped his face clean and scowled at Marco.

"If you want to come to try and pry more information out of me, be my guest. I must ask you to leave the building, though." Marco whistled, and the dogs ran over to him.

Ace hesitated, but as soon as Marco walked out of the door, he ran after him, waiting until he had locked the door.

Marco smirked and shoved four of the leashes into his hand.

"Don't look so smug. This doesn't change the fact that I'll call the cops after I'm done, you know," Ace said as he followed Marco to the park.

"As a journalist, you should know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar," Marco replied. "Your attitude doesn't make me want to talk to you more."

Ace just scowled at him.

As soon as they reached the park, Marco took the leashes off the dogs so that they could run freely. He had brought some toys and threw several balls for them to fetch.

Stefan brought his back to Ace, placing it in front of him and looking expectantly at him as he wagged his tail.

Ace hesitated, but wasn't able to resist Stefan's look, so he picked up the ball and threw it away. The other dogs followed Stefan's example and all begged for Ace to throw their balls as well.

Marco smirked and sat down on a bench. Ace was already completely sold. Not that Marco had expected anything else.

When the dogs finally took interest into something else, Ace walked over to Marco and sat down next to him, his cheeks flushed from running around with the dogs.

"So why do you work at an animal shelter anyway?" he asked, slightly panting.

Marco shrugged. "I have to do something during the day. And I like animals."

"So, animal lover by day, art thief by night?"

"That's not true," Marco protested. "I love animals at night as well."

Ace snorted with laughter, but hastily tried to cover it up by pretending to cough. "Why did you change careers, then? I always knew you did, I just couldn't think of a reason why."

Marco placed his arms on the back of the bench and noticed that Ace moved away a little. "I got bored, I guess. Robbing banks became dull. And then someone asked for my services."

"Wait, you have a client? Who is it?" Ace asked eagerly. Obviously, he had never considered the option.

"I don't know. But he pays me handsomely, so I don't complain."

"It's a man, then?"

Marco shrugged. "The person who picks up the paintings is. I don't know if he works for someone else."

Ace stayed silent for a moment. "Why are you answering my questions? You know my intentions, yet you don't seem to care."

"I told you, I trust Pops' judgement," Marco replied. "You could have called the cops long ago, but you didn't. I don't think you will anytime soon."

"You're awfully confident," Ace snapped. "You don't know me, and neither does your 'Pops'. You should be locked up for the criminal you are. You make every other Devil's child look bad, even if we are law-abiding citizens!"

Marco turned slightly so he was facing Ace. "I don't have much choice, do I?"

"Yes, you do. You could have chosen to keep your implant. Or get a new one! Besides, you obviously just walk around amongst everyone else with your powers anyway."

"And how would you suggest I earn money without an implant, hm? The seastone test is required to get a job," Marco said.

"Then get an implant!" Ace snapped.

Marco looked at him silently for a moment. "I can't do that," he eventually said softly. "Not after knowing what I missed when I had one. You, of all people, should remember your powers. You should know how amazing they were, even if everyone said they aren't."

"Not everyone." Ace's eyes widened when he realised what he had said.

Marco looked up intrigued. "Oh? Who didn't think so?"

Ace bit his lip and stared at the ground in front of him. "My brothers," he finally said softly.

Marco nodded, silently encouraging him to continue.

"Lu… I met him when I was thirteen, so I already had my implant. He's Gramps' – the man who took me in – real grandson. Luffy has an implant as well, but he received his when he was a baby, so he doesn't remember what kind of powers he had, but when he found out I did, he kept asking about it. It was really annoying." Despite his words, Ace smiled fondly, and Marco couldn't help but smile as well. This Luffy person was obviously very dear to Ace.

Ace's eyes grew sad. "And there was also Sabo… He didn't have powers, but he loved mine. We met before I received my implant, but then he..." He swallowed hard and shook his head. "Why the fuck am I even telling you this? It's none of your fucking business! And it doesn't change a thing."

"The first brother you mentioned – Luffy? – where is he now?" Marco asked gently.

Ace remained silent for a moment, but just when Marco thought he wouldn't answer him, he said, "He started travelling when he was seventeen. I sometimes get letters from him, but he's not one to stay focussed on one thing very long." He smiled, but immediately scowled again. "Not that it's anything to you."

Marco had trouble not to laugh. Ace obviously loved talking about his brothers. He was curious about this Sabo, though. Ace had used his name when Marco took him to his hotel room. From what he had gathered, Sabo had died before Ace had gotten his seastone. Perhaps Ace didn't want to talk about him further because he knew Sabo would have frowned upon him having a seastone?

It was all speculation of course, and there were more pressing matters at hand. Marco would have to try to convince Ace that his powers weren't evil, and that they were as much a part of him as his arms and legs.

When he had just opened his mouth to say something, Ace suddenly asked, "Do you have siblings?"

"I don't, but sometimes I wish I did." Marco sighed. "It would be less lonely."

Ace looked at him, but then cast his look to the ground again. "Obviously, we're not related by blood, but we are sworn brothers. I'd do anything for them."

Marco's eyes softened. "Ace… You said they loved your powers. Wouldn't you want them back?"

Ace's head snapped to the side, his eyes burning with anger. "Don't you dare use my brothers to guilt me into doing something!" he exclaimed. "Why the hell do you even care whether or not I have my powers back? To ease your own conscience? It can't be because you care about me, that's for sure!"

"Ace," Marco tried, but he was ignored as Ace continued his rant.

"And even if I did want to, the only man who is able to remove a seastone is held in Impel Down with no chance of release. Why would you try to get my hopes up?!"

For a moment, Marco was speechless. He hadn't expected Ace to be this enraged, but most of all, he hadn't imagined Ace to already consider what he had offered. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I shouldn't have dragged your family into this. But I'm sure Pops will know someone who can help you–"

"And to what end?" Ace interrupted him. "Do you even realise what you're asking of me? You're asking me to throw my life away. The life I have now, the friends I have, I'd have to give them all up for a life like… Like yours! Without a seastone, I can't get a job. I'd have to become a criminal like you! You want me to ruin my life just because you feel guilty?!"

"I'm not asking any of that," Marco replied calmly. "Ace, because you're wearing a seastone now, you're used to the effect. Sure, when it's removed and you'd have to hold a seastone again, you would get weak, but it's possible to bluff your way through it. I did it when I visited my father for the first time. You've been there; they won't let you in without one, at least the first time. Of course the seastone blocked my powers and weakened me, but because I didn't show it, the guards didn't get suspicious."

Ace didn't look convinced.

Gently, Marco took Ace's hands in his. He was surprised when Ace didn't pull them away. "You can live your life as you're used to, only completely free. I'm not lying, I swear," he added when Ace still looked doubtful.

"People would notice if I'd started to wear less sweaters," Ace said hesitantly. He still hadn't pulled away his hands from Marco's.

"If I found a way, would you consider it?" Marco asked.

Ace hesitated for a moment, but then nodded barely visible.

Marco smiled. "Good. I promise I will find a way then." He finally let go of Ace's hands and hesitated for a moment. "I do have to warn you, before you make up your mind. It hurts to remove a seastone. A lot. I thought I would die when it happened. You should make a fully informed decision, but I never regretted having the seastone removed. It gave me back my freedom. You should take it into account, though."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ace asked.

"Like I said, you should make a decision knowing all the facts."

"Even if it means I won't do it?"

"I want to give you the option to get the life you might have had if I hadn't left you ten years ago," Marco said with a sigh. "Whether you want that life is up to you." He rose from the bench. "I think it's time to bring back the dogs."

"Marco?"

He stopped and turned around.

"How did you know it was me? When we met in the bar, I mean." Ace stared at his feet.

Marco pursed his lips. "I didn't. Not for a while, at least. I've been looking for you for a long time, just to see if you turned out okay. And I figured you'd be the one to recognise my fire. Don't get me wrong, I'm not stupid enough to use my powers in plain view. I use my lighter to cover up that the fire actually comes from me. You came over almost immediately, so that's when I started to suspect it might be you."

"But you still wanted to have sex with me?" Ace asked challengingly.

Marco shrugged with a grin. "What can I say? You're hot and seemed into me."

"And I still would be, had you not been an infamous criminal." Ace rose from the bench as well and dusted off his clothes.

"That's too bad then," Marco replied with a sigh. "How can I contact you, though?"

Ace hummed. "Maybe I'm considering taking a dog."

Marco smiled as he watched Ace walk away. He couldn't believe he had been able to at least have Ace consider the option of removing the seastone. He could only hope Pops knew someone who could, because he didn't want to let Ace down.

Speaking to his father would have to wait, though. After he had brought the dogs back, another assignment from his mysterious client was waiting.

* * *

Izo was lying curled up into a ball, his head and body completely covered by the covers. He had been lying like this ever since Thatch left; how long ago that was, he didn't know.

How could he have been so stupid as to tell Thatch to look in his closet? No, why hadn't he hidden the paintings somewhere else?!

No one ever came into is walk in closet, except he himself. He had forbidden his maid to go in there even before he had started collecting stolen paintings, because he was very particular how he kept his clothes. When something was washed or had gone to the drycleaner, it was always placed on his bed instead. So he had deemed his closet a safe place to store the stolen paintings for now.

Yet in his half-asleep state, he had invited Thatch to look in there. Why? Why hadn't he gotten up and fetched a shirt for Thatch himself?

Now Thatch knew his secret, and while Izo trusted him not to go to the police, Thatch's words that he himself should, kept echoing through his mind. Should he? He could bring the paintings back anonymously, of course, but had it been worth the trouble then? The museum that had received one of his forgeries hadn't even discovered that it was a fake. It was just as beautiful as the original anyway, so why did it matter that it wasn't the real one?

Izo knew why. It was because art snobs only wanted the real deal. Art historians he could understand, as they would need to know how exactly someone painted, but everyone else didn't know what they were looking at anyway.

But Thatch didn't understand his point of view. He didn't understand that Izo only did what he did because of what the art world did to him. This was the only way to get back at it for all the suffering Izo endured.

Izo had hoped Thatch of all people would understand, but he also knew it had been too soon. After all, they barely knew each other three weeks, and while Izo was convinced that he was as much in love with Thatch as Thatch was with him, it hadn't been that long of a time.

Yet, last night had been everything Izo had ever wanted. He had finally kissed Thatch, finally been allowed to touch him after two weeks of torture. And then he had ruined it.

Of course, he hadn't expected Thatch to be a secret master criminal as well; that would have been too much to ask. But deep down, Izo had hoped he would be okay with it. He should have known better. Thatch was an upstanding citizen. He wasn't even curious about his Devil's powers!

Izo bit his lip when tears threatened to fall again. He had managed to hold them back until Thatch had left, but after that, he had broken down.

There was a knock on his door, but Izo didn't respond. Instead, he buried himself deeper under the covers.

The door opened anyway, and Izo could hear the distinguished click-clack of Sanji's dress shoes approach the bed.

"Go away," he said, not bothering to look.

"I made breakfast, so you better not waste it," Sanji replied. "This is rather late to stay in bed, even for you."

Izo had to admit he wasn't much of a morning person, unless he was working on a painting and he wanted as much natural light as possible. Now that the painting was finished and Thatch was gone, he had no reason to get up.

"I noticed that his car was gone," Sanji said suddenly.

There was no need for him to specify who he was talking about. Izo groaned and pulled the covers further over his head.

"Did you have a falling out?"

"Something like that," Izo muttered.

Sanji hummed. "Well, eat your breakfast."

Slowly, Izo pulled the covers down and looked at Sanji, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as Izo didn't allow smoking inside the house. As he sat up, he noticed a tray filled with what he only could describe as comfort food. Sanji was always very good in reading people's moods.

"You better eat all of it," Sanji said warningly. If there was anything he hated, it was wasting food, and Izo respected him for that.

At the door, Sanji turned around. "By the way, Moss-head said that a guy called this morning. One Teach Marshall, I think. Isn't he that businessman who commissioned you? Anyway, he will stop by in an hour or so, so you better get dressed."

Izo rolled his eyes. That damned man really worked on his nerves. Inviting himself over and all that. Izo really didn't feel like seeing anyone right now, least of all Teach Marshall, but apparently, he didn't have a choice in the matter.

After he ate his breakfast – and he had to admit, it did make him feel better – he took a long, hot shower. Partway through, Zoro knocked on the bathroom door to announce that Teach Marshall had arrived, but Izo didn't have any intention to speed up his process and told Zoro to tell Mr Marshall to wait in the hall.

When he was dressed and had applied his make-up as usual, Izo finally made his way down the stairs. Mr Marshall had taken a seat in one of the arm chairs put in the hallway for unexpected guests.

"Took you long enough," he said good-humouredly, but there was an annoyed undertone in his voice.

Izo was unfazed, however. "You can expect as much as you invite yourself into someone's home, Mr Marshall."

"Well, I can't be completely unexpected, since I heard you finished the painting. I was surprised to see Thatch at work this morning, but since he brought pie, I'm not complaining!" He let out a booming laugh, at which Izo rolled his eyes.

"Let's get to business then, shall we? Please follow me, Mr Marshall." Izo led the way towards the lounge. He didn't really want to have Teach Marshall in his studio, because somehow, that felt like it violated his sanctuary. "Have a seat, and I'll be right back with the painting."

He probably should have Zoro or Sanji offer the man something to drink, but to be honest, he didn't want Teach longer in his house than strictly necessary, and that had nothing to do with the fact that he interrupted Izo's self-pity. Something about Mr Marshall put him on edge.

In his studio, he picked up the painting and carried it back to the lounge. The paint had mostly dried overnight, but still Izo was careful only to touch the edges.

"It's bigger than I thought," Mr Marshall said when Izo entered, as he was munching on something. It seemed Sanji had offered him some food after all. Then again, that was only to be expected, since Sanji was the kind of guy who would even offer food to his enemies.

Izo didn't reply and turned around the canvas so that Mr Marshall could see the painting.

"Wow!" Teach used his hand to shield his eyes, probably from Thatch's crotch. "I did not need to see that!"

"You wanted a painting of Thatch," Izo replied deadpanned as he placed the canvas on the easel he had standing ready.

"Yes, but I didn't expect… _all _of him." Teach placed the saucer he was eating from next to him on the couch and rose to examine the painting. "Are you sure it's lifelike, though? Some things seem to be… enlarged."

"I can assure you that everything is to scale," Izo said, and he couldn't help a small smile from forming.

Teach hummed. "If you say so. I don't feel a need to check, to be honest. In any case, aside from that area, I'm satisfied with the outcome. That looks like Thatch in the flesh, in a matter of speaking." He cleared his throat. "Well done."

Izo fought the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't an art student looking for approval.

"So, since you exceeded my expectations on this painting, I'm sure you will excel in the second painting I want. Here's the thing," Mr Marshall begun, but Izo raised his hand and interrupted him.

"I'm going to have to stop you there. I will no longer make the second painting."

Mr Marshall raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"This is not working for me, doing commissions. You can have this painting if you like," Izo added innocently.

"No thanks. But you're making a big mistake," Mr Marshall replied.

"I doubt I am."

"We had an agreement."

"We did. I would make one painting, and if it was satisfactory, I would be awarded half of what you promised me," Izo said, crossing his arms before his chest. It wasn't that he needed the money, but he didn't feel generous enough to let Mr Marshall keep it.

Something changed in Teach's face. "You'll regret this."

Izo raised his eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"

The seemingly ever-present grin appeared on Mr Marshall's face again. "Of course not. Friendly advice, I'd say. You should give your clients what they want."

"As of now, I don't have clients anymore," Izo replied.

"Of course, of course. Heh, I'm just a little disappointed." Mr Marshall patted himself down. "It seems I have forgotten my cheque book."

"I can give you my account number and you can just transfer the money," Izo said.

"Sure, but I have to admit, I'm a little old fashioned," Mr Marshall said with a sheepish grin. "Tell you what, why don't you pick up your cheque tomorrow. Half the amount, as we agreed. And hey, you'll be able to see Thatch again. Well, him in the flesh, with clothes on, I hope." He let out another booming laugh.

Izo narrowed his eyes. He didn't trust this man in the least, but it seemed this would be the only way to get him off his back. "Fine, I'll see you at noon then."

"Ah," Mr Marshall scratched the back of his neck, "noon doesn't really work for me. Meetings and such."

"You don't have to hand the cheque to me personally, do you?" Izo inquired suspiciously.

"No, but I want to. How about six?"

"Sure," Izo said reluctantly. "Until then, Mr Marshall."

Fortunately, he got the hint and gathered his things. "I'll see you tomorrow then." He then placed his hat back on his head before walking through the door that Zoro held open for him.

"I don't like him," Zoro said after he had closed the door behind Teach.

Izo sighed. "Neither do I. But after tomorrow, we'll be done with him for good." He sighed again and looked out of the window. "I can't believe Thatch is working for him voluntarily."

* * *

It was weird sitting at his old desk again, after pretty much only lying naked on Izo's couch for the past two weeks. Still, Thatch was glad he could work normally again, though he hadn't expected to feel like that after the night he spent at Izo's place.

Thatch had been so relieved when he was finally allowed to touch Izo, and their whole evening had been utterly romantic. It had been everything he had wanted since he had met Izo, including seeing him naked.

But while that night had been everything he had ever wanted, the following morning was, in fact, not at all what he had expected. He was supposed to make Izo breakfast in bed, perhaps after which they could repeat some of the activities of the previous night, and then, who knows. He had not expected to find out his new lover was in fact a notorious art forger, who was working together with the infamous art thief!

Thatch let his head drop on his desk. He couldn't believe he had fallen in love with a criminal!

Part of him wondered if he had made the right decision. After all, what the hell did he know about art? Why did he care if his boyfriend upset the art world, which had upset Izo first?

But he couldn't be involved with a criminal now, could he? He was an upstanding citizen, always paid his taxes in time and didn't make any trouble. Sure, he had the occasional parking ticket, but who hadn't? At least he tried to live an honest life.

He wouldn't go to the police, however, as he had promised Izo not to. That didn't mean the whole situation didn't bother him, though.

As much as it pained him, he knew he had made the right decision by leaving Izo. Izo obviously hadn't planned on telling him, pointing Thatch to the closet while he was half-asleep, but Thatch was glad he found out now. It saved him a lot of heartache later.

Not that it didn't hurt now.

Fortunately, he could bury himself in his work. While Mr Marshall had said to Izo that a monkey could do Thatch's job, he hadn't hired such a monkey to actually do it, which meant Thatch was two weeks behind on work. He didn't care, though, as the work took his mind off Izo.

However, it was very hard not to think about Izo, when Izo was suddenly standing in front of him, carrying a rather large package under his arm, about the size of the painting he had made. Of course, Izo looked dashing as always, and Thatch cursed mentally.

"Hi," Izo said, but after Thatch had replied to his greeting rather awkwardly, a silence fell.

"I brought you your painting," Izo eventually said. "I figured you might want to have it now. You can sell it if you want to. People should be willing to pay a vast amount, since it's one of mine, and you can put that money into your restaurant…"

"I'm not sure I want my dick hanging above a stranger's mantel piece," Thatch said hesitantly.

Izo snorted, but hastily covered his mouth with his hand and coughed to obscure the sound. "It's up to you what you do with it, really." He placed the painting, which was fortunately wrapped in brown paper, against Thatch's desk. "It would be weird if I kept it."

"Why, now you can't make a copy of it," Thatch snapped, but he immediately regretted his words.

Izo's mouth pulled into a thin line. "Please tell Mr Marshall I'm here to obtain my cheque."

Thatch sighed and pushed the button on his intercom. "Mr Marshall, your six o'clock is here."

"Wonderful. One moment," Mr Marshall's voice sounded through the speaker.

"So, he saw the painting?" Thatch asked carefully after it had become silent again.

"He did."

"What did he say?" Thatch pressed.

"That he didn't need to check the accuracy."

Thatch chuckled at the dry response. "So what is the second painting?"

"I wouldn't know," Izo replied.

Thatch looked up confusedly. "How come? Didn't he tell you?"

"No, but that is because I declined the task." Without further explanation, Izo walked towards the door of the office that Mr Marshall now held open for him.

Thatch sighed as he watched him leave. It wasn't completely unexpected, of course, as Izo had only agreed to the commission because of Thatch. Now that their situation had changed, it made sense that Izo wanted out.

Fortunately, Mr Marshall seemed to have agreed on giving Izo half of the money, like he promised. That was what Thatch liked about him; Mr Marshall was a man of his word.

Thatch was about to go back to work, but curiosity got the better of him. Looking around if no one was watching – which was very unlikely, since he was the only one sitting outside of Mr Marshall's office – he pressed the button of the intercom on his desk.

"…my associate, Jesus Burgess," Mr Marshall's voice sounded.

Thatch frowned. He knew Jesus Burgess was an employee, but Thatch had never fully understood what exactly his job was. He came around every once in a while to have a meeting with Mr Marshall. Thatch hadn't thought about it before today, but he did wonder why Burgess would be here now. He hadn't seen him come in.

"How do you do," Izo's voice sounded, blatantly disinterested. "Well, Mr Marshall, I wouldn't want to take up much of your time."

"Of course, of course."

Thatch heard some shuffling of papers and the sound of a pen writing something down.

"Before I give you this," Mr Marshall said, "are you sure you don't want to reconsider my offer? Or at least hear me out."

Thatch could hear Izo sigh. No doubt he wanted to leave as soon as possible, but Thatch knew Mr Marshall was a hard man to say no to.

"Fine, but you won't persuade me," Izo finally said primly.

"You said that last time."

"That… was different," Izo replied coolly.

"I see. I suppose I should have expected this. Thatch has his charm on short term, but I should have known two weeks with him would be a bit much. He's quite a talker, isn't he?"

Thatch huffed indignantly, before he remembered that while he was listening in on his boss, Mr Marshall would be able to hear everything he did as well.

Fortunately, they didn't seem to have heard him, as Izo continued, "It's not that. We just had a… disagreement."

He sounded sad, and Thatch fought the urge to barge in his boss' office to hug him. Instead, he kept listening.

"Well, anyway, about the commission," Thatch heard some scuffling about, "have you ever seen this before?"

There was a ruffling of fabric, and Thatch could hear Izo gasp.

"O-of course I have! How did you get this? This is supposed to be in a museum!" Izo exclaimed.

Frowning, Thatch leaned in. Mr Marshall had something that belonged in a museum?

"I have my ways. And seeing how well you did on your first assignment, I want you to copy this painting," Mr Marshall said.

It stayed silent at the other end of the line, and Thatch held his breath. Was this a coincidence? Izo was a forger, and now his boss asked him to forge something. Of course, it could just be that Mr Marshall had borrowed the painting and simply wanted a copy. That wasn't illegal, as long as Izo made no pretences that it was the real one…

"If you want a copy, I'm sure you can find a copy machine. I'll be taking my leave now. Good day, Mr Marshall," Izo replied coldly.

Hastily, Thatch let go of the button and waited for the door of Mr Marshall's office to open, but when that didn't happen, he hesitantly pressed the button of the intercom again.

"I'm afraid I can't let you leave. You see, I'm a man who gets what he wants. And I want something of you," he heard Mr Marshall say.

Thatch's blood ran cold. Should he do something?

"You are holding me hostage?" Izo's voice sounded, rather unimpressed.

"You make it sound so savage. Thatch," Mr Marshall suddenly said.

Thatch almost gasped when he was suddenly addressed, and the hairs in the back of his neck stood up straight. Did Mr Marshall know he had been listening in?

"S-sir?" he replied.

"Go home for the day. I'm just wrapping up in here."

"O-of course. Thank you, sir."

Thatch let out a relieved breath when Mr Marshall started to talk to Izo again. However, he couldn't really go home, could he? Not now that he didn't trust the situation anymore.

Mr Marshall had seemed like such a nice guy, and in all the time Thatch had been working for him, he had never given him a reason to think otherwise. But this, this sounded fishy at best.

"What makes you think I'm the right person for the job?"

Thatch had to be impressed with how composed Izo sounded, like he was in a casual conversation.

"Why, that's why I had you paint Thatch, of course. To see if you could make an accurate copy. Of course, that was before I found this." Thatch could hear something being put on the desk, but he had no idea what it was.

"What of it?" Izo replied. "Oh, wait, isn't that one of the stolen paintings?"

"I'd think you would know, since you're the one who forged it!" Mr Marshall exclaimed.

Thatch's eyes widened. This didn't make any sense. Why would Mr Marshall have a stolen painting? And how did he know about Izo's side business?

"Well, if that's a forgery, it's expertly done," Izo said calmly. "I would have to see the original next to it to be sure, of course."

"No need to praise yourself," Mr Marshall replied. "Although, I have to admit, I was surprised to find out that an artist of your calibre would have a criminal alter ego. And in cahoots with the notorious art thief, no less."

"I don't know where you get your information, but I'm in 'cahoots' with no one. As I said before, I'll be taking my leave." Izo obviously made ready to head for the door.

"And I told you that 'no' wasn't an option. Burgess!"

"Unhand me this instance!" Izo shouted.

Wide-eyed, Thatch looked at the closed door. What should he do? Call the cops? But Mr Marshall would no doubt tell them what Izo really was, and Thatch couldn't bear the thought of Izo in jail, no matter what crime he committed.

Thatch had to do something, but with Burgess in the room, that was going to be tough. Burgess was not a small man, and neither as Mr Marshall, so with just the two of them, it would be almost impossible to overcome them both.

Still, he couldn't leave Izo to his own devices. It was Thatch's fault he was here in the first place!

"You can't keep me here. Thatch will be back tomorrow," Izo said. He was obviously angry, but if he was frightened, he didn't let it show. In the time Thatch had known him, Izo had always been able to keep his composure.

"Oh, but I'm not planning to keep you here. Everyone should have gone home by now. Burgess," Mr Marshall said.

"Stop that– Mmph!" Izo's words ended in an alarmed but muffled sound.

Thatch's eyes widened. What did they do to him?

"Come on, Burgess. Let's get him out of here," Mr Marshall said to his accomplice.

Thatch needed to hurry. He couldn't hear Izo anymore, so no doubt they had done something to shut him up. It was up to Thatch to help him now.

Thatch hastened himself to the elevator and called it up, before sprinting towards the kitchen, where two pies he had baked stood ready.

The doorknob of Mr Marshall's office turned as Thatch took his position, breathing heavily in anticipation.

Mr Marshall emerged first, raising his eyebrow upon seeing Thatch. "Thatch? What the devil are you doing here? I sent you home."

"I forgot to give you your pie," Thatch replied, before throwing one of them in his boss' face. As soon as he had a clear shot of Burgess, he got a face full of pie as well.

Izo was lying motionless over his shoulder.

Thatch flipped over his desk to obscure their path and grabbed Izo, before running with him to the elevator, pressing the button to the ground floor.

"After them!" he heard Mr Marshall shout, just before the doors slid shut.

Thatch was panting as he supported Izo's weight. "What did they do to you?" he muttered. He took out his phone, but unfortunately, he didn't seem to have any signal. Cursing, he put his phone away.

Izo moaned softly, before his eyes fluttered open. "Thatch?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing?"

"Saving you from my boss, apparently," he replied. "What did they do to you?"

"Chloroform would be my best guess. Bastards," Izo hissed. Suddenly, he straightened. "Wait, how did you know I needed saving?"

Thatch scratched the back of his head. "I may have listened in to your conversation. I'm sorry, I was just curious and–" He shut up when Izo pressed his lips against his cheek.

"Thank you."

"N-no problem," he muttered. When he had recovered, he asked, "How did you get here? To the building, I mean."

"My chauffeur dropped me off. I would call him when I needed to be picked up again," Izo replied.

"That's no help then. We have to get to my car as soon as possible, but try not to attract attention. There still may be people around. At least, I hope so. Mr Marshall wouldn't want to chase us in public."

Izo nodded as soon as the elevator doors opened.

As casual as possible, they strolled towards the door. Thatch nodded at the doorman, while Izo gave him a smile as he held the door open. Mr Marshall didn't seem to have reached the ground floor yet, but Thatch was not about to wait for him.

As soon as they made it outside, Thatch grabbed Izo's hand and dragged him towards his car. When he started the vehicle, he saw Mr Marshall and Burgess storming outside. Thatch immediately accelerated and drove into the traffic.

He kept looking behind him, even after he was sure he had shaken them off. After all, they first had to get a car.

"Thatch," Izo suddenly said. "Why did you help me?"

"I told you, I was listening in–" Thatch started, but Izo interrupted him.

"I know that, but that also means you heard the conversation. You heard what your boss wanted me to do. Which is technically what I was already doing."

"Well, yeah, but I just didn't like it that he was trying to force you." Thatch sighed. "I'm really sorry I put you in that situation."

Izo looked at him confusedly. "You didn't. I went in there because he promised me my money."

"Yes, but if I hadn't tried to persuade you to do the commission in the first place… I'm really sorry, I had no idea he was like that," Thatch said.

Izo was silent for a moment, before he placed a hand on Thatch's, which was resting on the gearstick. "I know. You'd never endanger me."

Thatch looked to the side and smiled when he saw Izo smiling.

"Eyes on the road."

"Right!" He barely avoided driving onto the pavement. "So what do we do now?"

Izo hummed. "Well, first of all, we need to leave your car behind at some point, since they know what that looks like. Furthermore, we need disguises and money. Neither of us can go home, after all, since they would know where to look."

"You really think they would keep looking for us?" Thatch asked with a frown.

"Mr Marshall didn't seem like the type to leave loose ends."

Thatch sighed. "I suppose you're right. Damn, I didn't plan for a life on the run in advance."

Izo chuckled. "Don't worry, we'll be fine. I know someone who can help us. He is a master of disguise."

"Really?" Thatch asked curiously. "Who?"

"My… associate, who obtained the paintings for me."

Thatch's eyes widened, and he forgot to look at the road for a moment, until Izo pointed him to it. "Your associate? You mean the infamous art thief?"

Izo smiled slightly. "Why, yes. But perhaps you know him better as the Phoenix."

Thatch looked to the side and gaped at Izo, his mouth hanging open.

Today had not gone at all as he expected. He was now on the run from his boss, whom he had previously thought was a nice guy, with the man he had just broken up with because he was a criminal, only to ask for help from another criminal, the notorious art thief, who was actually the Phoenix.

And the weirdest of all, Ace had been right all along.


	4. Chapter 3

Congrats MyLadyDay for finishing your exams :D Also, posting now is a big stick for me to finish a chapter for your birthday XD

Thanks Vergina-spva for beta'ing

* * *

Why did it seem that every time he spoke with the Phoenix, Ace became more confused? The Phoenix, or Marco, or whatever his real name was, kept asking him the right questions to make his faith in the government falter. Or the wrong questions, depending on one's point of view.

Ace had been fine before he met Marco, or met him again, rather. He was living a good life, had a good internship, had good, law-abiding friends. But then Marco had to come in and ruin it, talking about finding ways to get Ace's powers back. Ace was fine without his powers, be it only that he was cold all the time. Yet Marco had managed to make him long to have his fire back, and worse, had made him consider getting rid of his seastone.

And that wasn't even all. Every time Ace thought about Marco, he got a funny feeling in his stomach. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, he knew what that meant. Marco wasn't just handsome, he had proven he was kind too – when he wasn't kicking Ace off roofs.

In all, Marco had turned Ace's world upside down, and Ace wasn't sure if he should hate him or love him for it.

On the other hand, Ace had no idea what Marco felt for him. He had said he thought Ace was attractive, but he had already noticed that that was the case himself when he went with Marco to his hotel room. Marco felt guilty for the way Ace had turned out, with his powers blocked, so Ace doubted it was a good idea to pursue a relationship before that had happened. If it happened at all.

Still, thoughts about Marco, his implant and the government consumed his thought, so much even that he couldn't focus on his work anymore. Usopp had asked several times what was wrong, but how could Ace even begin to explain? He had no idea what Usopp's thoughts were on seastones, as that wasn't a subject one talked about. And even if he was against them, Ace doubted Usopp trusted him enough to be honest about that. After all, government agents could be lurking everywhere.

Ace had told Usopp he was just tired, but eventually, even senior editor Rayleigh Silvers started to notice Ace's slipping work and called him to his office.

"Sit down," he said when Ace entered, gesturing to the chair across his desk. "I've had complains about your work recently."

"What, did I get the coffee orders wrong?" Ace asked with a huff, crossing his arms before his chest. Even after months of working here, he still hadn't written any story.

"You did. I hate soymilk." Mr Silvers pulled a face. "But that's not the point. You seem distracted. What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired I guess," Ace muttered.

"Did you find what you wanted about Edward Newgate?" There was a strange look in Mr Silver's eyes, and Ace got the strange feeling he was being tested.

He wasn't sure how to reply, though. He liked Mr Silvers, very much so. Mr Silvers had barely taken a look at him before deciding to hire him for the internship. But that didn't mean he could just tell him why he had been looking for information about an infamous criminal. Rayleigh hadn't asked last time, but was he asking now?

"I did," he finally said. He studied Mr Silvers' face if there was any indication that he had replied not sufficiently.

"I heard you went to visit him in prison."

Ace froze at that. "How… did you know?" he asked carefully.

Rayleigh laughed. "I've been a journalist for a long time, kid. I have sources in every conceivable place, including Impel Down."

Ace wasn't sure what to say to that. He suddenly felt that there was no need to tell Mr Silvers anything, because he no doubt already knew anyway.

"I think it would be good if you took a few days off. Usopp seems more than capable to handle our coffee orders by now," Silvers said. "It's not a punishment," he continued when Ace opened his mouth to protest, "but you have been working a lot of overtime lately. I'll see you back on Monday."

It was Wednesday today, and Ace wasn't sure what to do with his time. Well, he knew what he _would_ do, because he still hadn't made up his mind about his powers and Marco, so he would drive himself crazy thinking about that. Still, there was nothing he could do, so he just thanked Mr Silvers stiffly and said goodbye to Usopp.

The nearer he came to his house, though, the more grateful he became. He was dead tired, as he didn't have a proper night sleep in a long time, only narcoleptic attacks from time to time, and those only seemed to tire him out more. He could have a proper night sleep tonight and sleep in tomorrow morning. He might not even get out of bed at all.

When he opened the door of his apartment, he immediately got the feeling that something was off. On instinct, he checked under the doormat, where he kept his spare key. It was missing.

Cautiously, he picked up the bat that was standing by the door as a weapon and walked further into his apartment. For a moment he wondered if Marco could have found out where he lived, but inside, it was a mess. Ace doubted Marco would be looking for things to steal. He was an art thief, and Ace had nothing of value. Besides, he wouldn't make a mess.

It was also not the kind of mess an ordinary burglar would make when looking for valuable items, which, again, Ace didn't possess. When Ace walked past his bedroom, he heard snoring, and he instantly relaxed. Placing the bat against the wall, he peered inside, smiling when he saw Luffy sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep.

Silently, Ace snuck into the room and crawled into bed. There was no need to wake Luffy up yet. They could talk all they want in the morning. Besides, Ace always slept better with someone next to him.

Unfortunately, Luffy wasn't as considerate as Ace was, and Ace was woken the next morning by someone jumping up and down his chest, calling his name excitedly. Ace couldn't be mad, though. He had missed Luffy so much. But it was surprising to see him so energetic. Usually, Luffy tired soon after waking up.

However, that didn't mean he could let him win, his pride as an older brother didn't allow that. Within a few seconds, Ace had pinned Luffy against the bed, sitting on his shoulder blades. "I win," he said simply.

"Awce! Ywour so mwean!" Luffy exclaimed plaintively, a bit muffled because he had a mouth full of mattress. He trashed about with his legs, and Ace laughed, grabbing Luffy's cheeks and pulling them playfully. However, his cheeks gave way and stretched unnaturally long. With a yelp, Ace rolled off him.

"Luffy, what the hell!"

Luffy looked up with big, owlish eyes, his head cocked to the side. "Oh yeah!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I can do this now!" He grabbed his own cheek and pulled hard. It stretched easily.

Ace stared at him, frozen in place. "H-how?" he finally stammered. The first thought that went through his head was that Garp would no doubt strangle Luffy slowly and painfully if he found out about this.

Luffy grinned. "Remember the seastone? Well, Traffy removed it and now I'm a rubberman. Shishishi!"

While Ace was used to Luffy making no sense, this definitely took the biscuit. He knew Luffy had had a seastone, which, unlike Ace, he had had since he was baby. He had never known what his special powers were, but he had always been interested in Ace's. Now it appeared someone by the name of Traffy had been able to remove Luffy's seastone.

"Isn't it cool?" Luffy was still grinning and stretched his arms with his new rubber powers. "So now you can get your powers back too, Ace!"

Ace swallowed a few times, trying to get a grip on the situation. "Let's have breakfast, okay?" he finally said, rising to his feet.

Fortunately, Luffy still had the attention span of a caffeinated bunny, so with a loud "Yosh!" he ran to the kitchen. As Ace made breakfast, he thought about Luffy's new powers. It had to be fate, hadn't it? Just when Marco had made him consider having his seastone removed, Luffy bounced – quite literally – into Ace's house to show his new power.

"Lu, who's this person who removed your seastone?" he asked carefully as he placed a plate in front of him.

"Hm, Traffy? He's a guy I met," Luffy said with a shrug, vague as ever. The plate was cleared in a heartbeat. "Can I have more?"

As Ace refilled his plate, he suddenly said, "There is someone I want you to meet." If there was someone who could remove seastones, Marco would want to know about it.

"A fwent of wours?" Luffy asked, his mouth stuffed with food.

Much to his annoyance, Ace felt his cheeks heat up. "Something like that," he muttered.

When all the food was gone – which, in all honesty, probably took less time than it should – Ace took Luffy in the direction of the animal home where Marco worked. On their way there, Ace asked, "Say, Lu, did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?" Luffy asked, his finger unnaturally far up his nose, much to Ace's disgust.

"You know, getting the implant removed."

"I dunno," Luffy replied with a shrug, and Ace wondered once again why he even bothered talking to Luffy.

The man whom Ace had seen with Marco last time he was here was standing behind the counter.

"Hi, is M–" Ace started, when he suddenly realised that the name Marco might be an alias the Phoenix used. Who knew by what name this man knew him?

"Ah, you're Marco's friend," the man said more cheerfully than Ace had expected. After all, the man looked more like a professional wrestler than an employee of an animal shelter.

Again, Ace felt his cheeks heat up. "Y-yeah," he said.

"Marco's not here yet, but he usually gets here every day. You're welcome to wait here and play with the animals, if you want," the man said. "I'm short on volunteers, so I could use the help."

Ace grinned. "Yeah, sure. I'm Ace, and this is my brother Luffy."

"I'm Blenheim," the man introduced himself. He started to point Ace to where the food and cleaning supplies were. Ace had the feeling that he would come here more often as volunteer,whether he liked it or not. He did like it, though.

Luffy immediately started to play with the dogs, while Ace made himself useful and fed some of the animals.

It was early afternoon when the bell above the door chimed, announcing someone entering the shelter. Ace could hear Blenheim talk to them, and his heart skipped a beat when he recognised Marco's voice. Scrambling to his feet, much to the displeasure of the cat that had been purring in his lap, Ace tried to tidy himself a little – being covered in cat hair was sexy, right? Despite telling Marco he might want a dog, Ace was now seriously considering taking this particular cat home. It has several scars and a limp, but it was very sweet. In his head, Ace had called him Striker.

Marco appeared into view, strolling leisurely towards Ace, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing glasses again, new ones, of course, as Ace had given his old pair to detective Smoker. When he saw Ace, he smiled. "I hadn't expected you back so soon."

"I want you to meet my brother." Ace gestured with his head towards the room in which the dogs were held, casting a glance to the front of the building, but there was no way Blenheim could see them.

Luffy was being thoroughly licked by several dogs at once, but he looked up when Marco and Ace entered the room. "Are you Ace's friend?"

Marco smirked and exchanged a look with Ace, who immediately looked away because he felt his cheeks heating up again. "Sure," Marco said.

"I'm Luffy!"

Marco looked at Ace again. "Then he is…?"

"My brother, yes," Ace said primly. It annoyed him that he was blushing so much lately. "Lu, show him what you can do."

Luffy looked at him confused for a moment, so Ace grabbed his cheek and pulled. Marco's eyes widened.

"Didn't you say he had an implant?" he asked.

"He did. Lu, what was the guy who removed it called again?" Ace asked.

"Twaffy."

Ace realised he was still holding Luffy's cheek and let it go. It snapped back into place in what looked like a painful manner, but Luffy was unfazed by it.

Marco turned to Ace. "I just went by Pops. He said something about there being someone in the underworld with the epithet Surgeon of Death. I think his name is Trafalgar."

Ace blinked a few times, but then sighed. Leave it to Luffy to make friends with people with scary epithets. It didn't matter at the moment, though. "Lu," he said, but Luffy was distracted by the dogs again. "Lu!" When he finally had his attention, he said, "This is Marco. He is the one who saved me ten years ago." He didn't dare to look at Marco as he said 'saved', but by now, it was clear that that was the case. Wasn't it? Luffy seemed so happy with his powers, so energetic, like an actual rubber ball. When he was little, Luffy had tired easily, though he had had just as short an attention span. It was good to see him with a seemingly endless supply of energy. "The Phoenix," Ace clarified.

"Wait, does that mean you're the bird guy?" Luffy asked, realisation dawning on him a little slower than the average person.

Marco snorted at that, but nodded. "I suppose so."

"Show me!"

Marco looked over his shoulder, probably to see if Blenheim wasn't near, and then turned one arm into a wing. Luffy's eyes started to sparkle, and Ace couldn't keep his eyes off the blue flames either. It made him want his own fire back desperately, to have it intertwined with those flames again.

He noticed Marco looking at him and hastily, he turned away.

"That's so cool!" Luffy exclaimed. "Look, I can do this!" He started to show off his powers by stretching himself into impossible angles and even blew up his belly like a balloon.

"Lu, stop that!" Ace hissed. Blenheim wasn't near and there was no way to look into the room from the outside, but still, it was dangerous.

Luffy did as he was told, but pouted.

"Does this mean you want your implant removed as well?" Marco asked Ace, his tone soft.

Ace looked away again. "I'm not sure yet."

"Of course he does!" Luffy exclaimed, for once paying attention when there wasn't being spoken to him. "Ace has the power of fire. It's so cool!"

"I know, I've seen it," Marco said, his lips curled into a smile.

Luffy's face fell a little. "That's so mean! Ace never showed me!"

Ace hit him again on the back of his head, his hand bouncing back right away. He had to get used to that. "I couldn't show you, remember? I met Marco before I received the implant, and you after." He turned back to Marco. "There is one thing you said that doesn't make sense. You said that I could continue leading a normal life, yet you're a thief, despite having a scar."

Marco sighed. "It's all I know how to do. Pops was sent to prison when I was fifteen, and I didn't want to go to another family that might give me a new implant. Stealing was my only option."

"Not anymore." Ace tilted his head and looked at him challengingly. "You're not a child anymore."

"That's right." Marco smirked. "I'm a thief."

* * *

The city beneath him was dark, but for once, Marco wasn't out to steal artworks. He hadn't heard from his client anyway, and he was wondering briefly if he should be concerned. At the moment, however, he had other things on his mind. Now that Ace was leaning towards having his implant removed, Marco had to make sure he had in fact that option. It had come as a relief that Ace's little brother had shown up with his powers, because it meant Marco didn't have to convince Ace. Luffy could do that.

Luffy's information, however, had been full of holes, and Marco didn't know how he could come into contact with this Trafalgar. He couldn't ask his father directly, or the guards would catch on. When Marco came to visit him, his father had spoken in code and it had taken Marco a while before he had decoded the message.

Fortunately, there was someone who could probably help him. Rayleigh Silvers was living the life of an upstanding citizen now, or at least he put up that front. He had been in jail too, but he had been released a long time ago, and was now senior editor of the local newspaper, staying under the radar. Still, he had many contacts in the underworld, even now, and Marco didn't doubt that if there was someone aside Pops who was able to remove seastones, Rayleigh would know about it.

Marco didn't know where exactly Rayleigh lived in the city, but he did know where he worked, and Rayleigh was a bit of a workaholic. Landing in the windowsill, Marco remembered to knock before he pried the window open. The lights in the room were still on, and Rayleigh was indeed still working at his desk. When he heard the window open, he looked up and smiled.

"Marco, it's been a long time."

"It has indeed." Marco smiled as he jumped down on the floor. He didn't bother with his mask, since Rayleigh knew who he was, both as thief and as person. Rayleigh and Pops weren't friends per se, as Rayleigh had been working with Pops' biggest rival over twenty years ago, but they definitely weren't enemies either, as they worked both towards the same goal: a world without seastones. "Pops sends his regards."

Rayleigh nodded and gestured towards the chair across his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure? I doubt it's just to send your father's regards."

Marco walked over to the chair to take a seat, when his eye caught a picture that was on the wall. It was of all the employees of the paper. Rayleigh was standing proudly in the middle, but that wasn't what Marco was looking at. A bit in the corner of the photo, a familiar freckled face could be seen.

"Why is Ace in your picture?" he asked suspiciously.

Rayleigh laughed and came standing next to Marco. "Because he works here, of course. The kid's a budding journalist. Fantastic at fetching coffee."

Marco snorted at that. "I should have known he worked for you."

"I should ask how _you_ know him."

"I saved him once, ten years ago." Marco scratched the back of his head.

Rayleigh's mouth curled into a smile. "That explains his obsession with you. The Phoenix."

"Actually, he's the reason I'm here." Marco tore his eyes away from the picture and sat down on the offered chair. "You know he has a seastone?"

"I do." Rayleigh sighed. "His dad would have been so proud to know he had a son with Devil's powers."

"His dad?" Marco asked.

Rayleigh smirked. "Roger, of course."

Marco's eyes widened slightly. Roger had been the most infamous criminal of the city, over twenty years ago. He had started out as a journalist that dug a little too deep to the government's liking. He kept writing stories about how seastones weren't bad, so the government had decided they had to get rid of him. They had accused him of the most heinous crimes, and in jail, he had been stabbed to death by another inmate. Marco had never thought that was a coincidence.

"Is that why you hired him?" Marco asked.

Rayleigh shrugged. "Maybe a little. If I hadn't been in jail at the time, I would have taken him in myself after his poor mother passed away." He sighed. "What about his seastone, though?"

Marco could relate to that feeling of guilt, but now wasn't the time. "He wants to get rid of it. His brother came back recently without an implant, so now he is considering to do the same. Pops talked about someone with the name Trafalgar. Well, that, or he tried to give me a history lesson," Marco said with a sigh.

"The Surgeon of Death," Rayleigh said musing. "I've heard he's been busy with seastone removal. Since this brother has his implant successfully removed, I take it he's doing a very capable job. I can make some calls to see if I can find him."

Marco nodded, relieved.

"Why do you care, though?" Rayleigh suddenly inquired. "He seems happy enough with an implant, loving to obey the law."

"The same guilt that made you hire him, I guess," Marco replied with a shrug. "When I saved him, I only postponed the inevitable. I should have stayed with him."

"But if you had, it would be inappropriate to want to get into his pants," Rayleigh said with a smirk.

"I resent that!" Marco protest, despite it being true.

"Am I wrong?"

Marco sighed and thought back about the night he had almost slept with Ace. It was probably for the best that nothing had happened back then, but Marco couldn't say he would be opposed to it happening now, since Ace had stopped resenting him, it seemed. Ace had looked so sexy then, not to mention the sounds he made…

"That pervert grin says it all," Rayleigh remarked dryly.

Marco hastily wiped the smirk off his face. "Who's the pervert here?!"

Rayleigh chuckled. "Definitely you. Anyway, when are you finally going to get Edward out of jail? The poor man has been there for fifteen years already."

Marco's face fell. "Don't you think I would have done it if I could? It's one thing I'm able to visit him, but breaking him out is something else entirely. I can't do it on my own."

"But that's the thing, right?" Rayleigh said with a smirk. "Now that you have Ace on your side, you have an ally. Probably more than you think."

Marco raised his eyebrow. "I'm not going to drag him into my family drama. I only promised I would help him get his powers back. That's going to get him into enough trouble already."

"He's already part of the fight by getting his powers back. Your father is a crucial part of the plan to overthrow the government and get these implants banished once and of all."

"That's no reason to endanger him," Marco protested. "It's dangerous."

A smirk grew on Rayleigh's face. "I see… So it's not just that you want to get him in the sack. You _like_ him."

"You're jumping to conclusions," Marco said sharply. "How's this, I'll ask him if he wants to risk his life or at least his freedom for a man he hardly knows, and then we'll see what happens."

"I would bring it slightly differently," Rayleigh pointed out amused, ignoring Marco's sarcastic tone.

Marco huffed, suddenly remembering why he only visited Rayleigh when he absolutely had to. He was a little to observant to Marco's taste and never let an opportunity to tease go to waste. "Let me know when you find the good doctor. I'll make sure Ace will hear."

He stepped onto the windowsill and spread his wings. Rayleigh always managed to get under his skin. It was too bad his client hadn't asked for another painting, he could use something to work off his frustrations.

* * *

With a sigh, Izo hang up the phone. He had called Zoro, his butler, to see if the coast was clear. As it turned out, it was not. Zoro had told him that a suspicious looking guy had stopped by to see Izo, and he hadn't left. Of course, Zoro hadn't let him come inside, but he was waiting just outside Izo's property, reading a newspaper apparently, so he wasn't going anywhere for a while. Izo had sent Zoro out to check on Thatch's house as well, to see if there was someone there as well, and had added he should take Sanji, or he would get lost again.

For now, though, he deemed it safer to spend the night in a hotel.

"So, what's going on?" Thatch asked. He was still driving a round the city, unsure of where to go.

"It doesn't seem like your boss is going to give up anytime soon," Izo said with a sigh. "There is someone at my house, so we can't go there. Zoro is going to check on your home, but I think we should rent a hotel room for the night."

Thatch nodded, a frown on his face.

"Let's leave the car here," Izo said and pointed at a parking place. "They know what you drive and no doubt your licence plate, so we'd better rent a car as well, if necessary."

After Thatch had parked the car, Izo went to an ATM to get some money. He had no idea what kind of connections Teach had, but a rich businessman like him no doubt knew people who owed him favours. Perhaps someone at the bank or the police station who monitored his transactions, so he deemed it safer to pay cash as much as possible. He knew he sounded paranoid, but he had seen enough detectives to know how it worked.

In a nearby store, they bought some new clothes, as especially Izo's stood out. Then, they went to a hotel at the edge of town by bus. Izo let Thatch check in as he would no doubt be recognised. In the meantime, Zoro had called to say that there was indeed someone at Thatch's house as well. He didn't ask why, though, which was something Izo appreciated.

It turned out that there was only one room left, as there was a conference in town, but when Izo said they could go somewhere else, Thatch just shrugged and said it was okay. To be honest, Izo was glad about that. He didn't want to be alone, even if the chance of Teach finding them was very small.

Only when the door was closed behind them and locked, Izo dared to breathe easily. Walking over to the double bed – wouldn't that be awkward tonight – he sat down next to Thatch, though he was sure to keep a distance between them. "I haven't properly thanked you yet for saving me."

Thatch shrugged. "I told you, it was my fault to begin with. I'm sorry I put you in that situation."

"I'm not entirely clear on how you managed, though," Izo said. "It's all a bit woozy until you were holding me in the elevator."

Thatch's cheeks coloured slightly, and he coughed. "I may have thrown pie in their faces."

Izo laughed. "Well, I'm sure it was pretty bad ass."

"I thought it was."

"I'm sorry I missed it then." Slowly, the smile disappeared from Izo's face, and he sighed. "I think I also owe you an apology. Not for what I'm doing, but… For not telling you, I guess. I should have known you wouldn't be okay with it."

"It doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" Thatch said. "I mean, I'm on the run anyway, and…" He suddenly seemed a little shy. "And I still like you."

Izo's lips curled into a smile, and he placed a hand on Thatch's leg. "I like you too."

"We should probably first try to get out of this mess, though," Thatch said as he intertwined his fingers with Izo's.

Briefly, Izo wondered if Thatch was consciously holding his hand, but then he put it out of his mind and nodded. "First, I'm going to take a shower and get changed. Then I'll try to contact the Phoenix."

"Do you really think he can help us?" Thatch asked.

"If he can't, no one can. After all, he has been infamous and never caught for ten years. And no one knows he has become the art thief."

"Not no one." When Izo looked at him curiously, Thatch continued, "A friend of mine is a bit obsessed with him. He suspects that the Phoenix is behind the art thefts. Don't ask me why."

Izo's eyebrows raised in surprise. He had thought no one would know about the career change the Phoenix had made. No one _should_ know.

"Speaking of, I haven't seen him since he went home with a guy of whom he thought he was the Phoenix," Thatch continued musing. "I probably should be worried."

"You let him go home with a criminal?" Izo asked surprised.

Thatch shrugged. "Like I said, he is obsessed, so he was starting to think he saw him everywhere. I figured he needed to get laid. But then I met you and I kinda lost track of time." He smiled sheepishly.

Izo smiled as well.

"But you think the Phoenix will help us?" Thatch continued, a worried frown on his face.

"He seemed nice enough. Besides, I've paid him good money to steal those artefacts, so this is the least he could do." Izo rose, smiling when Thatch hesitated to let go of his hands. "I'm going to take a shower now."

When he returned, dressed in a simple shirt and trousers – he hadn't taken the time to look for something pretty, grabbing the first things that were his size – Thatch smiled at him.

"What?" Izo asked, drying his hair some more.

"You're pretty."

"Yeah? You prefer me without makeup?" he asked.

"I prefer you when you're comfortable."

Izo let out a laugh and moved until he was standing between Thatch's legs. "Didn't I tell you the first time we met that flattery will get you nowhere?"

Thatch smiled and placed his head against Izo's belly. "How did you ever think about hiring the Phoenix anyway?" he asked. "He was a bank robber."

"I didn't," Izo admitted. "I received a note that the Phoenix was available for hire. I don't know from whom, or how they knew I thought about having paintings stolen to forge them. Later I got instructions on how to contact him."

"How's that?"

"A postoffice box," Izo said with a shrug. "I put in a note asking him to meet me, and he did. We then agreed on a price and stuff."

Thatch let out a laugh. "I'm sorry, I hadn't expected an infamous criminal could be reached by post."

"How else will he get his mail?" Izo replied with a smile, running his fingers through Thatch's hair insofar possible with his pompadour. "Besides, didn't you just tell me infamous criminals go to bars too to pick up people?"

"I'm still not sure it was him," Thatch protested.

Izo laughed and took a step back. "How about you order room service and I'll try to contact the Phoenix?"

"You're going alone?" Thatch asked worriedly. "What if Mr Marshall finds you?"

"I don't think anyone will recognise me like this." Izo gestured towards himself. "I'll be careful, I promise." He sat down at the desk in the room and wrote a quick note.

Outside, it was already dark and there weren't many people out on the street. Izo turned up the collar of his shirt and looked around him, but he didn't see anyone suspicious lurking around. Unfortunately, the postoffice box of the Phoenix was on the other side of the city, and Izo had to take the bus. He constantly had the feeling he was being watched, but he could see no one following him.

Finally, when he reached the lobby of the hotel again, he sighed deeply and checked once again over his shoulder to see if anyone was following him. When he once again saw no one and the receptionist gave him a funny look, Izo hastened himself to the elevators.

In their room, Thatch was lying on the bed, wearing a loosely tied hotel bathrobe. His hair was tied back in a ponytail and he had shaven his goatee. When he saw Izo, he sat up. "Hey, you're finally here. I was getting worried. Did it go okay?"

"I think so," Izo said slowly, then sighed. "I couldn't help but feel like I was being followed, but that's probably just paranoia, right?" He shook his head. "Anyway, you sure look different."

"I figured my hair might stand out in a crowd," Thatch said with a shrug.

Izo laughed and joined him on the bed. "That's an understatement. But I like it, because now I can do this." He pulled the tie out of Thatch's hair and ruffled his hair. Something about Thatch's look made him stop, and before he knew it, his fingers had intertwined with the strands.

Thatch's eyes flicked down to Izo's lips, and Izo couldn't help but bite his bottom one. Thatch's bathrobe had fallen open a bit more, exposing his chest. Thatch did nothing to remedy that.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Izo asked, his voice low.

"Maybe a little," Thatch replied, sounding equally breathless. Pleased with that reply, Izo smiled and leaned in.

Before their lips could meet, however, there was a knock on the door, and Izo froze.

"Relax," Thatch said, caressing Izo's back soothingly. "I ordered room service, like you asked." He rose from the bed and opened the door. A bellboy came in, pushing a cart with food on it to the middle of the room. He looked at Izo in a strange way, though, and Izo couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Did the boy work for Teach?

Thatch thanked him and closed the door, but Izo immediately got up and locked it. Thatch looked at him worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, he just looked weird at me."

"Maybe because you're so pretty," Thatch tried to cheer him up, but while Izo smiled, he couldn't shake the feeling something bad was about to happen. He couldn't wait until the Phoenix came to help them.

It also made him lose his appetite. If Thatch was wrong and the bellboy had looking weirdly at Izo for another reason, couldn't the food be drugged? He doubted it was poisoned, since Teach wanted him alive, but what if there was a sleep-inducing drug in there or something.

When he shared his concerns with Thatch, he suggested, "How about I eat first? If nothing happens to me, you can safely eat as well."

Izo agreed, mostly because he knew he would need the sustenance. But he loved Thatch for the way he didn't treat Izo as if he were paranoid.

Thatch ate, and when nothing happened to him, Izo dared to eat as well.

During dinner, Izo was quiet. Thatch tried to fill the silence by talking about all kinds of things, and Izo appreciated his effort to put him at ease, even if it was in vain.

"I'm glad you're here with me," he said as they shared their dessert, consisting of chocolate cake. "I mean, of course I'd rather not have dragged you down with me, but…"

"I know." Thatch smiled and wrapped an arm around him. "But something good came out of it, right?" When Izo looked at him confused, Thatch took his face between his hands and kissed him. It was only a brief peck, but enough to reassure Izo that everything was going to be okay, because he had Thatch.

* * *

There was a knock on the window, and Thatch could feel Izo stir beside him. The sound had startled him, considering they were on the sixth floor of the hotel. Izo, however, seemed calm when he crawled out of bed. Without hesitation, he opened the curtains.

From where he was lying, Thatch could see a flash of light blue light, and finally, his still sleepy brain seemed to catch up with the situation. The Phoenix sure was fast.

Izo opened the window and a man stepped inside, the upper half of his face covered by a mask of blue flames. "Thank you for coming," Izo said.

The Phoenix studied his face. "So you're my boss," he said, sounding amused. "And his… lover?"

"I wouldn't have called you here if it wasn't serious," Izo said. "This is Thatch. And I'm… Izo."

"I should have known a famous painter would be the one to hire me." The Phoenix still seemed amused by the situation.

"You're not going to take off your mask?" Thatch asked.

"Not yet. For all I know, this is a trap. After all, this doesn't look like a hotel room the famous Izo would be interested in." He walked around the room, arms behind his back, before looking over his shoulder to Thatch and Izo. "But you can call me Marco if you like."

"That's your name?" Thatch inquired.

The Phoenix – Marco – flashed him a mysterious grin. "Tell me what I can do for you." He sat down on the bed as if he owned the place.

Thatch looked at him intrigued. He hadn't cared that much about the Phoenix' career, not as much as Ace, anyway, but this was not what he had expected of him. Somehow, Thatch had thought he would be more mysterious. And he was, to some extent, but mostly he seemed amused by the situation. A situation that was everything but amusing.

"Someone found out that I forge paintings. I don't know how, and I certainly hope it didn't come from you," Izo said, his voice suddenly sounding cold. It seemed to surprise even Marco.

"I can't say I have many friends with whom I share things like that. Besides, I didn't even know who you were until tonight," Marco replied.

Izo nodded, seemingly believing him. "He is after us, me and Thatch. I don't think this hotel is safe. I need you to hide us. I can pay you, if necessary." He had sounded confident until the last part, suddenly sounding pleading. Thatch didn't like it. Izo wasn't supposed to be scared and insecure.

Before Marco could reply, however, there was a soft click of a key card sliding in the lock on the outside. Marco placed his finger on his lips and moved until he was standing in the direction where the door would open to, so he would be behind it and obscured from view.

Thatch took Izo's hand, squeezing it reassuringly as they waited for the door to open. The doorknob turned, and Thatch could see the silhouette of the bellboy in the light of the lamp on the nightstand they had left on for Thatch. The boy was no doubt bribed to open the door. Before he could enter, however, Marco gave a powerful kick against the door. It swung back, hitting the bellboy full in the face. Thatch could heard a painful groan.

Their victory didn't last long, however, as the door swung open again. A man with a narrow face and light brown hair entered. Thatch had seen him before, though the man's name had escaped him. He was definitely one of Teach's men, however.

In the blink of an eye, the man had pulled a rifle at them. "That's far enough," he spoke.

Thatch and Izo sat frozen on the bed, but Marco jumped the man. He whipped around, and a shot was fired. Thatch called out Marco's name, but the bulled went straight through him. Blue flames appeared, and when they were gone, there was no wound left.

"Too bad, you should have brought seastone bullets," Marco said with a smirk. He kicked the man, who was still too flabbergasted to respond, in the chest. He was launched back, his head hitting the wall.

Marco checked around the door, but the bellboy was lying unconscious on the floor. He whistled, seemingly impressed. "Well, you weren't kidding when you said they were after you. They want you badly. Well, time to go then." He tapped with his foot against the man with the rifle, who groaned softly. "Yeah, definitely time to go."

"And you propose we just walk out of the front door?" Izo asked with a slight huff.

Marco laughed. "Why use the door when there is a perfectly good window?" He stepped onto the windowsill, and before Thatch's eyes, he shifted into a bird. Thatch's mouth fell open. He finally understood why they called him the Phoenix.

The bird gestured with its head outside, and Thatch wondered briefly if it could talk like this. Still, they didn't have time to ask, as the man in the corner started to stir.

Izo grabbed Thatch's hand and pulled him along. Marco, still in birdshape, jumped off the windowsill, spreading his wings. Thatch tried not to look when Izo made him jump, but they both landed safely on Marco's back as bullets whizzed past them. One grazed Thatch's arm, and he hissed in pain as he grabbed at the wound. Izo wrapped an arm around him to steady him.

Fortunately, the flames of which Marco consisted didn't burn them, and they were able to hold onto them. It was amazing to fly like this, through the starry night. Thatch wasn't afraid of the dark now, because of the stars and the light Marco emitted.

Finally, they landed somewhere in the city. As his bare feet touched the streets, it dawned on Thatch that both he and Izo were still only wearing underwear, so it was a good thing there was no one around. They hadn't considered for a moment to put on more clothes, not that they had had the time.

Marco shifted back to his human form. "Come on, it's not far anymore," he said.

Thatch took his hand off his wound and looked at it. His hand was red with blood. He saw Izo look at him worriedly and Thatch tried to smile reassuringly. It probably didn't look too convincing.

Marco looked over his shoulder, and only now Thatch noticed that his mask of flames had disappeared. He was now looking like a regular guy, someone Thatch wouldn't have looked twice at if passing him on the street. There was something familiar about him, however, though Thatch couldn't put his finger on it.

"My neighbours know me as regular old Marco," Marco said with a shrug when he caught Thatch looking. "I can hardly storm in as the Phoenix." He stopped in front of an ordinary looking apartment complex and produced a key. "You might want to cover your wound," he said to Thatch. "Or at least don't bleed all over the carpet. My neighbours might ask questions."

Izo helped him staunch the blood with his hands, and they managed to get to Marco's apartment without making bloodstains. Inside, Marco locked the door behind them.

"I'll get the first aid kit," he said and disappeared into a room.

Izo helped Thatch to the couch and turned on the lamp next to it for extra light. As he studied the wound, Thatch looked around the apartment. It looked normal, if a bit sparsely decorated. The room only contained what was necessary, like a couch and a few chairs.

Marco returned with the first aid kit, sitting down next to Thatch on the couch. "It doesn't look too bad," he said after studying the wound. "I don't think you need stitches, which is a good thing, 'cause I'm no doctor." He dripped some disinfectant on it, and Thatch hissed.

"So, you live here?" Thatch asked to distract himself from the pain as Marco started bandaging the wound.

"It's one of my hideouts," Marco replied. "The biggest I have, now that the abandoned house on the outskirts of town has been demolished."

Thatch had no idea which house he meant, but Marco seemed to be lost in thought at the moment, so it probably had some significance for him. "So being an art thief is lucrative, huh?" he offered.

Marco glanced at Izo. "If one has the right client. There." He rose and started to put the bandages back in the kit.

"Thank you for helping us," Izo said. "I can't reach my funds right now, but…"

Marco waved his words away. "Don't mention it. Thanks to you I'm an art thief, which is much more classy than a bank robber." He grinned.

"Augur!" Thatch suddenly exclaimed, and both Marco and Izo looked at him confusedly. "Sorry," he continued, "I couldn't think of the name of that guy. But it's Van Augur."

"You mean the guy who shot at you?" Marco asked surprised.

"At you too. But yeah."

Marco looked at him suspiciously. "Just who is after you?"

Thatch shrugged. "My boss. Well, former boss, I doubt I still work for him. Teach Marshall? Augur is an associate of his, like Burgess. I didn't really know what either of them did. I guess I do now."

Marco seemed to think for a moment. Then he said to Izo, "Is he a cop?"

Izo shook his head. "He's a rich businessman. He commissioned me to paint Thatch and after that another project. It turned out he wanted to have some paintings forged."

"He must want that really bad for him to send a sniper after you," Marco remarked, his eyebrows raised.

Izo shrugged. "I suppose so. I mean, it's not like I can go to the cops because of my side business, and I think he knows Thatch isn't going either." While he was talking, his hand had slipped into Thatch's.

Marco pursed his lips, musing. "There has to be something else, though? I mean, it can't just be that you bruised his ego, right?"

Izo shrugged again.

"Oh, you know, we never took the painting with us," Thatch suddenly said. "I'm not sure how happy I am that Teach has a… well, naked painting of me."

Marco let out a snort, but covered it up with a cough. "I doubt he is happy either."

Thatch sighed and turned around to look out of the window. He really hoped that Ace wasn't in trouble after all, because he most certainly was, and he might need some more help.

* * *

Ace took a deep breath in front of the animal shelter before pushing open the door. He had left Luffy at home for now, as he wanted to talk to Marco in private, and Luffy had the annoying tendency to only listen when one didn't want him to hear. Ace still had some questions about the seastone removal, and well, he just wanted to be alone with Marco.

Blenheim greeted him with a smile on his face. "Marco's out with the dogs," he said, "but I expect him back any minute. Mind feeding the cats?"

Ace's face brightened. "Not at all!" He hastened himself over to the part of the building where the cats were held, immediately greeted by Striker. As soon as he had opened the door, Striker started to purr and nuzzled up against him.

He spent some time giving each of the cats some attention and food, of course. Some of the litter boxes needed to be cleaned, and before Ace knew it, he was sweeping the shelter.

"So Blenheim has indeed recruited a new volunteer," Marco's voice suddenly sounded behind him, amused.

Ace turned around and smiled sheepishly, which probably looked even weirder because of the purring cat that was draped around his shoulders. "I don't mind."

"So you're not here for me then?"

Ace shrugged, which wasn't easy with the cat on his shoulders. "A little. Mostly for this guy, though." He caressed Striker.

Marco laughed. "Well, have fun then."

"Marco?"

He stopped and turned around.

Ace lifted Striker off his shoulders and took him in his arms. "Have you found the doctor yet?"

"Not yet, but I have a contact who can," Marco replied. "In fact, you know him as well."

"I do?" Ace asked confusedly.

"Rayleigh Silvers."

"Mr Silvers? Don't be silly," Ace said, putting Striker down.

"He has never told you he knew your father?" Marco asked.

"My… father?" Ace swallowed hard. He didn't want to be reminded of that man. He had only learned about his father's history when he was older. A murderer, a thief, a drug dealer… There wasn't a crime he hadn't been accused of. Ace couldn't say he was sorry that he was killed in prison. But what did Marco know?

"Rayleigh worked closely with your father. He has been in the same prison with Pops too. He was released years ago and now stays under the radar," Marco explained.

Ace grit his teeth and clenched his fists. "Then I don't want his help!"

"Ace," Marco tried, but Ace shook his head.

"I don't want to have anything to do with anyone associated with that man!" Then realisation suddenly hit him. "Is that why he hired me?!"

"We need him, if you want to get your powers back," Marco said.

"Then maybe I don't want that!" Ace was shaking with anger. He knew he wasn't being rational right now, but he couldn't care less. His father was a monster, and Ace wanted nothing to do with him, nor with his associates.

"Let's go somewhere to talk." Marco gestured with his head to the door. "You know I won't force you to get your powers back if you don't want to, but I don't want you to make the decision for the wrong reasons."

Reluctantly, Ace followed Marco outside, who called to Blenheim he would be back in the morning. It was near closing time, anyway.

"I have to stop by my house first, though," Marco said. "I need to drop something by."

"Which house?" Ace asked curiously, but Marco just smiled mysteriously.

They walked in silence for a while. The initial anger had drained from Ace, and now he just didn't know what to do anymore.

"Luffy's changed so much, you know?" he suddenly said. Marco looked at him, silently encouraging him to continue. "He used to be tired a lot. Like, if he wasn't eating, he was lying on the couch. Sometimes after we wrestled he couldn't even move from exhaustion. Now… Now he seems to have a limitless amount of energy, you know? Bouncing around all the time. It's exhausting." He laughed, and Marco did as well.

"Isn't that a good thing, though?" Marco asked.

Ace hesitated. "It is. Of course it is. And his personality hasn't changed or something. So I guess I won't change much either, will I?" He looked at Marco questioningly.

"You just won't be cold anymore," Marco promised him.

"Yeah." Ace sighed. "The more I think about it, the more I realise that I'm tired of it. Of being cold all the time. I can't remember when I was warm. I always wear multiple sweaters and a winter coat, even if everyone else is wearing a t-shirt. So I know it _can't_ be cold, not really. I just might as well be on the North Pole."

Marco stopped and placed a hand on Ace's shoulder. "Is Luffy happy?"

"Luffy is happy as long as there is meat," Ace replied with a snort.

"That's not what I mean."

"I know." Ace looked away. "I know he really wants me to have my powers back. And you really want me to have my powers back…"

"I want you to be happy with your choice."

Ace looked up because of the sincerety in his voice. His heart skipped a beat when he looked straight into Marco's blue eyes.

"I feel responsible for you having your powers taken away, yes. But since I talked to you, I've come to realise that you might be just as happy without them. It's not my place to decide whether you should have them," Marco continued. He started walking again.

Ace followed him, still a bit stunned.

Eventually, Marco stopped again in front of a building, which turned out to contain the same apartment as Ace thought Marco had held him captive. Slightly embarrassed, he eyed Marco, but he seemed unfazed. Outside, it had already become dark.

"What's in the bag, anyway?" Ace asked, pointing at the plastic bag Marco had been carrying.

"Food," Marco replied. "I eh… have guests."

Ace cocked his head to the side, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "Guests?"

"It's a long story." Marco sighed. "Just wait here, okay?" He turned the key in the lock and opened the door, leaving it ajar. Ace could hear some voices coming from inside. He couldn't hear what was said, but there were at least three people inside, including Marco.

Suddenly, Ace saw someone walking past and for some reason, he thought he recognised him, even if it didn't make any sense. "Thatch?" he called out, pushing the door further open.

The man stopped, turning towards him, and for a moment Ace thought he had made a mistake. The man had the same colour hair, the same scar around his eye, the same smile, but… His hair was tied in a ponytail and he didn't have a goatee.

"Ace?" the man asked, definitely with Thatch's voice. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Ace flung back. "And what happened to your hair?"

"I–" Thatch touched his hair with a sad look on his face. "It's a long story," he finally said with a sigh. "Where the hell have you been, though? I haven't seen you since you went home with that blond–" He hit himself against the forehead. _"That_'s where I know him from! He's the guy you picked up!"

Marco and a black haired man joined them in the hallway.

"I can't believe you were right," Thatch continued. "_Again_."

"Of course I was right," Ace said smugly. "About what?"

"First of all, the Phoenix being the art thief. And about the guy you had sex with that he was the Phoenix." Thatch remained silent for a second as if he realised something, before exclaiming, "I can't believe you had sex with the Phoenix!"

"I did not!" Ace snapped, arms crossed before his chest.

"You were about to," Marco added with a smirk, but after a dirty look from Ace, he hastily added, "but then you didn't."

"That still doesn't explain why you're here," Ace pointed out.

Thatch exchanged a look with the black haired man before taking his hand. "Come on, I'll explain it." He moved into the living room.

"I can't believe you kidnapped my friend too," Ace said to Marco and had trouble holding his laughter at Marco's flabbergasted face. He then joined Thatch and the other man in the living room. Thatch's companion was introduced as Izo, which explained a bit, as Thatch was touching him an awful lot, and Thatch had told him that he had a thing for the famous painter Izo. Obviously, the feeling was mutual.

Ace was then introduced to the world of forgery, kidnapping and chases.

When Thatch was done talking, Ace needed a moment to recover. He had never expected Thatch to be in a situation like this, but on the other hand, he wasn't surprised. Thatch was very loyal, and if the person he liked was in trouble, he wouldn't hesitate to help.

"Now it's your turn, though," Thatch said. "You always said you were going to expose the Phoenix when you found him. Obviously, you didn't."

Ace bit his lip and looked at Marco, who was standing by the window. "I'm thinking of having my implant removed," he finally said. "Marco is helping me with that."

He could see the shock on Thatch's face. "Are you serious?! Do you have a death wish?"

"Marco has had his removed," Ace pointed out. "And my brother too. He's staying with me, by the way."

"Is that true?" Thatch asked Marco.

As he had with Ace, Marco turned around to show his scar. "There are a few people around who are able to do such an operation. We have found such a person, we only need to locate him."

Thatch sat back on the couch, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you're considering something like this. What has brought this on all of the sudden?"

"I don't think I ever told you, but I had my powers until I was twelve. I still remember them well." Ace looked away. "Marco made me realise how much I miss them."

"Can I ask, what kind of powers did you have?" Izo, who had been silent up till now, asked.

Ace's eyes started to glisten. "Fire."

Thatch let out a snort. "You? The power of fire? You're wearing three sweaters as we speak!"

"That's the thing, though," Marco said. "The blocking of one's powers causes them to be vulnerable to the opposite. Ace's power is that of heat, so he is cold now. When my powers, those of healing, were blocked, I was sick often."

"My brother's power is that of rubber, and he was often tired before he had his removed," Ace added.

Izo turned to Thatch, who had suddenly stiffened, placing a hand on his knee. "Thatch…"

"Don't," he said through gritted teeth.

"You have an implant too, haven't you?"Ace asked. He hadn't known that. "We could have yours removed too," he added.

"No thanks, I'm perfectly fine like this." Thatch rose from his position from the couch.

"Are you, though?"

All four of them whipped around when they heard an unknown voice. In the windowsill, a man with bright red hair was sitting, three scars running parallel across his left eye. When he saw them all staring, he grinned broadly.

"Who the hell are you?" Marco asked, obviously ready to kick the man out of the window if he made a wrong move.

"I'm Shanks."

Marco froze, as if that name meant something to him.

"Mind if I come in?" Without waiting for a reply, Shanks moved into the living room and flopped down next to Izo. It was amusing to see the dismay on Thatch's face. Shanks made himself comfortable, stretching out his legs.

"Is there a reason for your visit?" Marco asked, irritated. It did seem he knew of this Shanks, so he probably didn't pose a threat, which was good to know. "What did you mean just now?"

"Implants are more complex than they seem. You should know all the facts before deciding if you want to keep it," Shanks said with a shrug. "Aren't you going to offer your guests a drink?"

Marco shot him a deadly look, but did go into the kitchen to fetch something to drink. When he came back with tea, Shanks didn't seem too pleased.

"It'll do, I guess. So where was I?"

"Who are you?" Izo finally asked.

Shanks pursed his lips. "Let's just say that I'm on Marco's side."

"Of art theft?" Ace asked confusedly.

"He means to say that he, along with many others are trying to put a stop to seastone implants," Marco said. "His name is well known in the underworld."

"What he said."

"So what's this about implants?" Ace asked. "They're just there to block your powers, right?"

"That's what the government wants you to think, yes. But they actually do much more than that." Shanks placed his cup on the floor for the lack of a table and leaned with his elbows on his knees. "They contain a kind of microchip that stores information about your powers. If they think it could come in handy, they keep an eye on you. There have been people disappearing all over the place too. You fill in the blanks."

Ace, as well as Thatch and Izo, stared at him horrified. "Are you serious?" Ace finally asked. "They're kidnapping people for their powers?"

"If they find a way to extract the powers from someone's body, imagine what they could do with them," Shanks said, a frown on his face. "Whole armies could be built. Oh, and I should mention, the chips work as a tracking device as well, since you're on the run."

"I probably shouldn't ask how you know that, should I?" Thatch said surly.

Shanks shrugged. "Word gets around."

"Does that mean our location is compromised?" Marco asked.

"Well, yes and no. I mean, I know where you live, but that's because Newgate told me. I don't know who's after you two, though. Care to share?" He looked at Thatch and Izo.

They exchanged a look, before looking at Marco, who nodded. "My former boss, Teach Marshall. He tried to force Izo to forge a painting for him," Thatch said.

Shanks' face turned dark, which made him look scary. "You should watch your back then. Even if he's not the government. If you have an implant, they can find you anywhere." He seemed to know more about Thatch's boss than he let on.

"How do you even know all this?" Izo asked.

"I have a guy on the inside," Shanks said. His mood seemed to be veered around as he grinned. "A fine man, on top of that. Which is an interesting fact, but beside the point." He waggled his eyebrows, before turning serious again. "My guy managed to get his hands on some documents of powers that are being watched. No names, just the powers. Of course, Marco's was in there, because who doesn't want the power of healing? But that project has been stopped because Marco's implant was destroyed."

"Is mine in there? It's fire," Ace asked.

"I don't think so. Doesn't mean you shouldn't get rid of the thing, though. The most interesting power is one of darkness. They still haven't figured out how it works, not even after thirty years, which is why the person who has this power is still walking around."

"What do you mean?" Ace asked.

"Well, the government can't really do anything with the powers until the person carrying them is fully grown. Most of the disappeared people are young, twenty or so. Some were a bit older, because their powers are harder to understand. And well, why lock someone up when you can just find them at any moment?" Shanks sighed.

"Why do you tell us all this?" Marco suddenly asked. "Why are you here?"

"I'm recruiting." Shanks suddenly looked at Ace. "I heard you wanted to have your implant removed. I can get you into contact with Trafalgar."

"What do you mean, recruiting?" Ace asked confusedly.

"We need more people in order to overthrow the government, of course."

"That's quite a thing to ask of someone," Izo remarked coolly.

Shanks flashed him a grin. "I'm asking you too. Especially your boyfriend over there. We can use more people with Devil's Fruit powers. Whatever they are. Which reminds me, I'd like to talk to your brother as well. The government doesn't seem to care much about rubber powers, but I think they're underestimating him."

Ace grinned. "Oh, definitely." People tended to underestimate Luffy. They always regretted it in the end, though. Besides, he had a feeling Luffy and Shanks would get along great. Both of them had a certain likeability quality about them.

Shanks had some convincing arguments to remove the seastone, though, to be honest, Ace had had already made up his mind when he was talking to Marco.

He looked at Marco, who was leaning against the wall. Marco was looking back at him, as if he was trying to read Ace's mind. Ace really hoped he couldn't, though, as his head was suddenly filled with all kinds of thoughts that involved Marco.

* * *

Shanks' visit had been unexpected. While Marco had heard a lot about him, he had never met him in the flesh before. Perhaps Pops had sent him. In prison, he and Marco couldn't talk openly, and Pops was Marco's main source of information. The fact that seastones weren't what they appeared to be had shocked him, as he hadn't known that. He imagined the underworld had only discovered this recently as well.

What had surprised him most, though, was Ace's willingness to continue with the removal of his implant. When he had left that evening, Marco had asked if he had made a decision yet. While Ace had seemed like he wanted to blow off the whole operation when he heard who Silvers really was, when explaining to Thatch how he knew Marco, Ace had appeared like he still wanted to have his implant removed.

"I want to have it removed," Ace had said firmly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You heard what Shanks said. They're analysing my powers as we speak. Shanks said that people with interesting powers were snatched when they were twenty something. _I'm_ twenty something. What if they suddenly decide fire does come in handy?" Ace had shuddered.

"You do realise I was wrong, right? You can't live an ordinary life if they know that your implant is been removed." Marco had sighed. "I didn't know all that. But if you have your implant removed, even as much as a parking ticket could draw attention to you."

"I don't have a car," Ace had replied simply.

"What about Rayleigh?"

Ace had crossed his arms before his chest and looked away. "I'm not doing it for him, or for my father. I'm doing it because it's always been most important to me to be free. I thought I was, but I'm not. Besides," he continued in a cheerier tone, "Luffy looks happy. I mean, Gramps is going to kill him if he finds out, but it's good to see him so energised. Tiring, but good."

Marco had then promised to let Ace know when the doctor would arrive, as Shanks had said he would sent him by. He still wasn't sure what Thatch would do, though. Thatch didn't appear to have made up his mind either. He had been brooding for a few days already.

The doctor, Law Trafalgar, was nothing like Marco had expected. For one, he was much younger than Marco had thought, with a bit of a sadistic streak. Apparently, his power helped him to do the operations, just like Pops' had with Marco's. Edward Newgate's powers were those of earthquakes and in the right frequency, he could destroy implants. Technically, Marco's implant had never been removed, just destroyed.

Ace seemed confident enough when he came to Marco's apartment. He had brought Luffy for moral support, who had immediately taken a liking to Thatch, because he could cook. Apparently, Luffy was quite the eater, even more so now that his belly could stretch beyond the capability of the average human, or so Ace told him.

As they were waiting in the living room while the operation took place, Marco eyed Thatch curiously. Of course, he didn't know him for long, but Thatch did seem broodier than usual. Izo appeared to be worried as well, and Marco wondered what caused it. Luffy distracted Thatch a bit by whining he was hungry, despite having just eaten.

Marco couldn't help but feel nervous, though. If something went wrong, if Ace died or was paralysed during the procedure, he would never be able to forgive himself. Luffy seemed to be fine, but Marco still couldn't shake the worry. Izo noticed and took his hand. It was interesting how easily they had become friends in the short time that Izo had been living in his apartment.

Finally, Trafalgar exited the bedroom, where he had done the procedure. "He is sleeping now," he said, pulling off his gloves.

Marco rose from his chair. "Is he okay?"

"He will be. Though, it is a good thing he is lying on a fireproof blanket. Let me know if there are any complications." With that, Trafalgar left.

Marco exchanged a look with the others, before opening the bedroom door a bit. Ace was snoring peacefully. However, suddenly, he combusted into flames, and Marco pulled the door shut a bit. The flames disappeared again as soon as they had appeared. It was to be expected, though. His powers had been suppressed for so long, Ace had no idea how to control them, and neither did his body.

Marco checked the room to see if there was anything on fire, but everything appeared to be fine. Marco was glad he had thought about the fireproof blanket before Trafalgar removed the seastone implant.

It took a few hours before Ace woke up. Marco was reading a book next to him, as Thatch and Izo had other things on their minds. Luffy had left after a while, since there was nothing he could do and he wasn't one to sit still for long.

Ace's eyes fluttered open, and Marco placed his book to the side.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Ace replied, hoarsely.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm…" Ace began slowly. "I'm not cold. I'm not cold!" He sat up, wincing when the wound at the bottom of his spine hurt.

"Careful. That'll take a while to heal," Marco said soothingly and gently pushed Ace back on the mattress.

Ace looked at his hands in awe. He was shirtless and wasn't covered in a blanket either, but he didn't appear to be cold. A smile tugged at Marco's lips. So it had worked.

Flames flared up again, and Ace let out a yelp. "What the hell is happening?!"

"It's okay," Marco hastily said. "It'll take a while for your body to get used to your powers again. You're lucky it only happens every now and then. When my seastone was removed, I spent a few days as a bird, much to Pops' delight." He made a face, causing Ace to laugh.

"I bet you were cute and fluffy."

Marco snorted and rose. "Just be glad you don't spend a few days as our camp fire. I'll get you something to eat."

"Marco?"

He turned around at the door.

"Can you show me yours again?"

Smiling, Marco walked back to the mattress Ace was lying on and sat down next to him. From his hand, he let blue flames emerge. Ace stared at them, before hesitantly holding out his own. Orange flames sprang from his fingertips, mingling with Marco's. The result looked even more beautiful than Marco remembered and he was completely mesmerised. Through the flurry of colours, he could see Ace stare as well, and Marco had to resist leaning in to kiss him.

However, suddenly, Marco found himself on his back on the mattress with Ace on top of him, kissing him with fiery passion – no pun intended. Marco couldn't bring himself to stop him, his hands running up Ace's thighs. He wanted this so badly, yet he knew he should end it. Ace didn't seem inclined to stop, so Marco flipped them over, pulling back panting slightly.

Ace looked up at him, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. "Why did you stop?" he asked.

"Ace, I…" Marco licked his lips, trying to find the right words. Finally, he sighed. "I'm not your only option."

"What do you mean?" Ace asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I told you, the spontaneous combustion will pass. You'll have your powers under control again and then… You can have anyone." Marco didn't look Ace in the eye, despite the fact that he was still hovering above him.

"You think that's what this is about?" Ace asked softly, popping himself up on his elbows. "Marco, I don't want to kiss anyone. I want to kiss _you_."

Marco was taken aback for a moment, but he didn't resist when Ace pulled him down again to kiss him, not even when Ace burst into flames again. It was a good thing Marco had rolled them back on the fireproof blanket.

Finally, he pulled back, resting his forehead against Ace's. "I thought you didn't like me."

"Please, I almost slept with you once."

"Until you found out who I was," Marco pointed out.

Ace remained silent for a second, before he said, "It's because of you I have my powers back."

"That doesn't mean you owe me. In fact, I think I still owe you."

Ace smirked mischievously and flipped them over again. "How about we call it even and start over?" He kissed Marco again. Marco couldn't find a reason to complain.

Eventually, they parted, and Marco said, "I have something for you."

"Really? What is it?" Ace suddenly looked like a kid in a candy store, bursting into flames once more.

Marco laughed. "Maybe I should wait a little, until you have your powers under control."

"You can't do that! You can't say you have something for me and then not give it." Ace pouted.

Snickering, Marco pushed Ace off him. "Alright, I'll get you some food and your present." From the kitchen, he fetched a plate of food that Thatch had prepared – after Luffy left, otherwise it would be gone already. When he returned to the room, Ace was bouncing up and down on the bed, and he seemed slightly disappointed when Marco was only carrying a plate of food, though not for long, as his stomach started to grumble.

"One sec." Marco left the room again, and when he got back, he was carrying a cat on his shoulder. The food he had given Ace was gone already, but Ace's eyes lighted up in excitement.

"You got me Striker?!"

"You seemed fond of him."

"I am! Though I better wait with petting him," Ace said with a sigh. "I mean, I thought about getting a dog, but I like Stephan best and I didn't think you'd allow me to take him." He smiled sheepishly.

"I planned to get him for Pops when he gets out," Marco said.

"Oh, is he getting out soon?" Ace asked curiously.

Marco remained silent for a moment. "I… need to ask you something." He put Striker on the floor, who immediately ran to Ace and jumped in his lap. Marco wanted to pick him up, in case Ace burst into flames again, but the cat had pretty good instincts and jumped off Ace's lap seconds before the flames appeared again. Relieved, Marco sat down next to Ace.

"What is it?"

"Ace," he started, staring at the floor, "Pops isn't getting out anytime soon, not what the government is concerned."

"What did he do?" Ace asked almost inaudibly.

Marco let out a humourless laugh. "Piss off the wrong people. They conjured up some charges against him, like they had with Roger to convince a judge to lock him up." He sighed. "It has always been my intention to break him out. I just… I can't do it on my own." He looked at Ace, whose eyes widened.

"You're asking me to help break out your father?" he asked.

"Yes. After you have your powers back under control, of course," Marco added.

Ace took a deep breath. "I need to think about it."

Marco nodded. That was more than he could ask for. "I understand. Take your time."

They didn't have more time to talk, as suddenly Luffy, who had returned, stormed into the room and jumped Ace. Marco got up and hauled him back, just in time, as Ace's flames came out again. "No hugging unless you are wearing a fireproof blanket!"

Luffy was about to protest, when Ace burst into flames again, and Luffy's eyes started to shine, still dangling in Marco's arms. "That's so cool! I want to do that too! Can I?"

"You're already rubber, remember?" Ace said.

"And have you ever smelled burning rubber? It's not pleasant, I'll tell you that," Marco added.

"Boo."

With a sigh, Marco let go of Luffy and wrapped a fireproof blanket around him. "Now you can hug him." He was certain Ace would make sure Luffy kept the blanket on, so he turned and left the room so that the brothers could catch up. Their relationship made him realise how much he missed having Pops around, and he wished he had siblings of his own.

Entering the living room, he saw Izo sitting on the couch, alone and looking sad. They were much alike, Marco realised, as they both had been lonely. They now both had a lot of people around, but still Izo looked lost, as Thatch didn't seem to be around – though Marco was certain he hadn't left the apartment.

A faint smile on his lips, Marco decided to go talk to Izo.

* * *

A few days passed, and Izo watched Thatch retreat more and more into himself. The most frustrating part was that Izo knew exactly what he was thinking, but he didn't want to pry until Thatch himself mentioned it. He had tried to steer the conversation in the right direction, but Thatch had never taken the bait. So Izo had to wait this one out.

It had started on the evening Shanks came by. Izo knew Thatch was shocked about the fact that seastones could be used as tracking devices, but that wasn't even the worst of it. Marco had told them that having one's powers suppressed resulted into being sensitive to the opposite. Ace had the power of fire and was cold, Marco had the power of healing and got sick. When Shanks mentioned the mysterious power of darkness, it wasn't hard to see what Thatch had been thinking. He was afraid of the dark, so it would make sense if his powers had something to do with that. Of course, he couldn't be certain without removing his seastone and, if their earlier conversation was anything to go by, Thatch did not want that.

Still, there was nothing Izo could do for him. He was glad Thatch went to talk to Ace, though he was also a little hurt he didn't come to Izo. In turn, though, Izo had confided in Marco.

Ace seemed very happy to have his powers back. He stayed the first night in Marco's apartment, which was a very cramped night, as there was only one mattress on which Izo and Thatch had slept the first few days. No one could sleep next to Ace without getting burned – except Marco, but he had an errand to run, or so he said – so they stayed clear of him. Ace, in turn, wasn't allowed to leave the bed unless he was wrapped in a fireproof blanket. Marco had dismantled the smoke detectors just in case, which did nothing to make Izo feel safe.

Izo felt a little lonely, especially when Ace went home to recover and Thatch was still brooding. Along with being cooped up in the apartment, Izo was starting to feel restless. He wanted to paint, but in his hurry to flee, he had never taken anything with him, not even a drawing pad. He had sent Ace and Luffy to his house once to fetch some things, but painting supplies had never crossed his mind.

Being inside all day drove him mad. Would Teach still be looking for him? If he was, he wouldn't recognise Izo now, would he? Izo only appeared in public in full makeup and flashy attire. The way he looked now, in baggy clothes, he hardly recognised himself in the mirror. It probably wouldn't hurt if he went out for a bit.

Marco wasn't here, and Izo doubted he would stop by a lot now that Ace wasn't there anymore. They made a cute couple, and Izo was happy for them. It just meant he was a bit lonely.

"I'm going out!" he called to Thatch, who didn't reply, lost in thoughts. With a sigh, Izo pulled the door shut behind him.

Being outside and amongst people did Izo a world of good, though he couldn't help but look around him suspiciously when he exited the building at first. It didn't look like any of Teach's goons were around, or he would have been jumped already. Perhaps it was too much hassle for Teach, anyway. Izo had been on the run for several days now. How long could Teach be after him, only for a forgery? He could have broken into Izo's house already and taken the other forgeries he made, or the originals for that matter. Though, Izo doubted Zoro and Sanji would allow such a thing, if they were still there.

It didn't matter now. Izo wasn't going to go home, not until he was certain the coast was clear. For now, he would just enjoy his freedom.

At an art supply store, he bought a sketchbook and some other supplies, though he resisted the urge to buy an easel. He didn't want to assume he was going to be stuck in Marco's apartment for much longer, so there was no need to make himself at home.

After the art supplies, Izo decided to indulge himself a little and went to a few clothing stores, before he went to a coffee shop to get a coffee. As he sat down, he opened his sketchbook and started drawing the people around him. Only then he realised how much he had missed drawing.

"Mind if I join you?" a female voice beside him asked suddenly.

He looked up and saw a black haired woman with piercing blue eyes. He instantly realised he knew her, but from where he couldn't say. However, if he had met her, he would no doubt have been wearing makeup, so she couldn't recognise him, could she?

It was, however, rather busy in the shop, with barely any other seat available, so it would make sense that she wanted to join him. Izo decided he was just being paranoid and smiled pleasantly at her. "Please do."

"I couldn't help but see your drawings," she said as she said down, hands wrapped about her coffee cup. "You are very talented."

An amused smile appeared on Izo's face. "So I've been told. But thank you," he added.

"I thought you preferred painting, though."

Izo's head snapped up, looking at the woman across from him who innocently took a sip from her coffee. She couldn't know, could she? Izo searched his brain to remember where he met her before. Suddenly, he knew. This was Robin Nico, curator of the museum. Was she working for Teach?

Robin smiled slightly as she seemed to know that he remembered her. "What an unusual place to run into you, Mr Painter. Are you incognito?"

"Something like that," he said coolly. It was no use denying who he was, as she had spoken to him on several occasions. He liked her, if he was honest, even if she had a bit of a disturbing sense of humour. However, he couldn't imagine a woman like her working for a guy like Teach. "Can I help you with something?" he added.

"I was just hoping to have coffee with an old friend," she said with that mysterious smile of hers, "but now that you mention it, there is something I would like. My paintings back." There was a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

"Weren't those stolen?" Izo asked casually.

"One mysteriously made its way back to the museum."

"That's good news, isn't it?" Izo asked.

"It was a forgery. A good one, but a forgery nonetheless," she replied and took another sip.

"Then why not come out for it? Call the police?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "That would cause only more panic, Mr Painter. It was stolen once already. If people knew there was now hanging a forgery in its place, it would be a disaster."

"I still don't know what this has to do with me," Izo said defiantly, not looking away from her gaze.

Her lips curled into a smile. "You're good. Very good indeed, but you have a tell. I can't describe it exactly, but it's there, and I know it's you."

"But you can't prove it."

"I cannot. Nor would I want to. I just want my paintings back."

Izo pursed his lips. He liked Robin and he had never been comfortable stealing from her, but it hadn't been personal. Robin was someone who genuinely loved art and not just the fame that came with it. "Perhaps some paintings will magically find their way back to their owner."

"Perhaps they will." Robin finished her coffee and rose. She didn't leave right away, however, instead leaning down so her face was close to Izo's. "It appears to me, Mr Painter, that you're in a bit of a pickle. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help you." She slipped her business card in his hand, before disappearing in the crowd of people.

Izo looked at the card, wondering if she meant what she said. He didn't know how she would be able to help him, though, but the gesture was nice. However, while Robin was a very sharp woman, Izo suddenly didn't feel all that comfortable and anonymous anymore. Finishing his coffee, he tried to remain an air of calm as he walked to the door. He had to stop himself from running back to the apartment, suddenly seeing Teach's goons everywhere. No one attacked him, however, nor approached him in a suspicious manner.

In front of the building, Izo realised he didn't have a key, so he could only hope that Thatch would stop moping for a little to let him in. He pressed the doorbell to Marco's apartment. There was no answer, and Izo cursed inwardly. He didn't think Thatch wouldn't open the door on purpose, but if he didn't open the door, Izo was stuck out here. Who knew when Marco would return.

Fortunately, a nice old lady who lived in the building held open the door for him, and he was so relieved he could kiss her. Finally feeling safe again, he climbed the stairs to Marco's apartment. Before he could knock, though, the door flung open and Thatch pulled him against him, startling Izo.

"Thank goodness you're safe! I was so worried!"

"I didn't think you'd noticed," Izo said. It came out more bitterly than he intended.

Thatch pulled back, taking Izo's hands. "I know, I'm sorry." His eyes looked sad, and Izo was starting to feel guilty. Thatch pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. "I know I've not been paying enough attention to you these days."

Wide-eyed, Izo looked around. On several places in the room, candles were burning and there hung an amazing smell of food.

"I figured you needed some spoiling," Thatch said with the grin Izo knew and loved.

He laughed, putting down his shopping bags. "Yes, I could." Then his face turned serious. "Does that mean you've made a decision?"

Thatch sighed and went with a hand through his hair. Then he took Izo's hands again, pulling him along to the couch. "I knew right away what I had to do. I just… didn't want to let go of the things I had to give up."

"What do you mean?"

"If everything we've been told is true, those powers of darkness cannot fall into the hands of the government. Or anyone. I can't be certain I have them, unless I have the implant removed." Thatch sat back on the couch. "I don't want to be traced either, but… If I remove the implant, I can forget about ever opening a restaurant of my own. One health inspection and I could be found out. I can't risk that."

Izo wrapped his arms around him. He hadn't taken the restaurant into the equation. Now he understood why Thatch had been so sad these past days. "I wish you had talked to me," he whispered.

"I wanted to, but this is something I have to decide for myself. I talked to Ace about his powers, and he couldn't be happier he has them back. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have them."

"What if you have those powers of darkness?" Izo asked.

Thatch sighed. "I don't want to have such power, but if I do, I'll need you to help me control them."

Izo nodded, pulling him close.

Thatch took a shaky breath, before he laughed, his mood seemingly veered around. "But tonight isn't about me. How was your day?"

"I'll tell you in a bit." Izo moved until he was straddling Thatch. "But first things first." He leaned down to kiss the surprised Thatch. He had missed doing that, especially since Thatch's hands wandered up his upper legs. He gasped when Thatch squeezed, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and both Thatch and Izo froze.

"You weren't followed, were you?" Thatch asked, slightly panicked.

"I… don't think so." Izo had looked around before entering the building. Besides, someone had to have let them in, and Teach definitely looked suspicious, right? Inwardly, Izo cursed the nice old lady who had let him in.

There was another knock, and Izo looked at Thatch. "What do we do?"

Thatch took a deep breath and stood up, grabbing the first thing that looked like a weapon. It was an umbrella, and Izo snorted unimpressed. Thatch rolled his eyes and pressed the umbrella in Izo's hands, before going into the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding a sharp looking knife. "On three," he whispered.

Izo nodded and stood ready with the umbrella.

Thatch counted to three silently and ripped open the door. Their attack faltered immediately when they saw there was no threat. Sanji and Zoro were standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" Izo stammered.

"You were in trouble and I know you have a tendency not to eat. Though, it seems like you two made up." Sanji gestured with his head to Thatch, before pushing the bag of groceries he was holding into Thatch's hands. "Watch out with those, they are sharp," he continued, motioning to the knife. With that, he walked into the apartment, followed by Zoro.

"How did you find me?" Izo asked, still not quite recovered from the surprise.

Sanji snorted. "Not thanks to him." He gestured to Zoro, and Izo had to suppress a snicker. "Ace and Luffy told us," Sanji continued. "I take it that since loverboy is here, you've been eating?"

Thatch only then seemed to realise he had been busy cooking and ran off to the kitchen.

"Are you going to tell us why you're hiding, boss?" Zoro asked.

Izo sunk down on the couch and told his story. When he was done, Sanji whistled. "You've been naughty, it seems. But you can't stay inside for the rest of your life."

"I know," Izo said with a groan. "Is that guy still watching the house?"

"Yeah. He's just careful to stay outside your property, so there is not much I can do," Zoro said. He sounded annoyed, which was understandable.

"At least we now know why," Sanji said. "I just can't believe that guy would go through so much trouble just for you."

Izo didn't understand it either, but he supposed it had to be a matter of pride. After all, not only had Izo refused a demand and escaped, Thatch had as well.

* * *

Thatch didn't understand how Ace had been able to appear so relaxed right before his seastone was removed, because he was just a bundle of nerves. Dr Trafalgar had come by again, as Marco had somehow been able to convey the message of Thatch's decision.

While Izo was a great support, Thatch was glad Ace had shown up for the occasion. He knew better than Izo what Thatch was going through right now. Ace had been absent most of the time, still growing accustomed to his powers, but by now, he appeared to have them under control. Except from when he sneezed, apparently, but fortunately, it wasn't hay fever season.

It was weird seeing him together with Marco. Thatch had seen Ace pick up Marco in that bar, and at the time he had been convinced that the talk about the Phoenix had been just an excuse to approach a stranger, but then Marco turned out to actually be the Phoenix, so Thatch wasn't so sure anymore if Ace was attracted to him. Well, _now_ he was, as the two of them were together now, sort of, but the idea of Ace dating the Phoenix was still weird to him. Ace had been obsessed with the Phoenix since Thatch met him several years ago, but only to unmask him when he got the chance. Not to make out with him like a horny teenager. Okay, that was perhaps somewhat of an overstatement, as they had only kissed rather normally in public, but still.

However, Ace had come over for Thatch today.

"Are you sure I'm doing the right thing?" Thatch asked him softly, so the others couldn't hear.

"Of course you are!" Ace realised he was speaking loudly and immediately lowered his voice when Marco and Izo looked their way. "Of course you are," he repeated in a whisper. "Getting your powers back is the ultimate feeling of freedom. It's like a weight is lifted from your shoulders you didn't know you were carrying. Believe me, you won't regret it."

"But what if I do?" Thatch asked with a sigh. He leaned closer to Ace. "When you had the implant, you were just cold, right? You didn't dislike fire?"

"Well, no," Ace said, slightly confused. "Why?"

Thatch hesitated. He didn't like to talk about the fact that he was afraid of the dark. It was childish and embarrassing, so he had never told Ace. He had only trusted Izo enough to tell it, and only because they spent the night together, so he hadn't had much choice.

"You know what your power is, don't you?" Ace asked, sounding excitedly.

"I don't," Thatch admitted. "I… suspect something that might have to do with it."

"Well, tell me!" Ace pressed.

"I…" Thatch sighed again. "I don't like the dark," he finally said, though that was an understatement. He hated the dark, because it scared him. He couldn't help it. "I fear that my powers might have something to do with darkness, so what if I hate them?"

"I don't think you will," Ace said, and Thatch could hear he meant it. "I think they will help you overcome the hatred," he used the word hatred, despite the fact that Thatch was sure that he meant fear, "because it is part of who you are. Remember, you could always get an implant a second time. You might not be able to remove it again, though. But I think you owe it to yourself to discover this part of you, and you won't find out what you're powers are any other way."

"I could always ask the government," Thatch joked nervously.

Ace laughed and slapped him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture, but it also pushed him in the direction where the doctor was waiting. His legs feeling like lead, Thatch wondered if after the procedure, he would feel so light that he would float, if Ace was right.

"Wait!" Izo suddenly called.

Thatch could hear Trafalgar sigh tiredly, but immediately forgot about that when Izo pressed his lips against his.

"Good luck," he whispered.

"See you on the other side," Thatch replied with a humourless laugh. He could see the worried frown on Izo's face and hastily kissed him again. "I'll be fine," he promised, before following Trafalgar into the bedroom.

He didn't notice anything of the operation, as the doctor knocked him out with a sedative. When he woke up, he was still lying on the mattress in the bedroom. Next to him, Izo was sleeping. Thatch smiled. It was sweet that he was so worried. Thatch reached out his hand to caress Izo's cheek, when he saw something was dead wrong. His hand, as well as his arm, was black, translucent, and went straight through Izo.

He screamed, waking up Izo, who yelped as well and fell off the mattress. Fortunately, his fall wasn't very long.

Wildly, Izo looked around, until his eyes rested on Thatch and he relaxed. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning?! What the hell is wrong with me?!" Thatch asked, panicking. It turned out that not just his arm was translucent, his entire body was. In fact, he wasn't even lying on the mattress, just floating above it. His hands shaking, he tried to touch his chest, only to go straight through it.

"It's okay," Izo said soothing. "Ace had the same thing, remember? Your body just has to get used to your powers. It means the operation was a success."

Thatch wasn't sure how he could remain so calm. Yes, Ace hadn't been able to control his powers at first, but all he did was spontaneously combust. Thatch was… He was a ghost. No, rather, he was a shadow. "I'm a shadow of my former self," he whispered. He stared at his hands, turning them to look at them at all angles, but they were all around black and slightly see through.

"Thatch. Thatch! Get a hold of yourself! I can't even slap you in the face when you're like this," Izo said with a huff. "You'll be fine. Try to get some more rest, okay?"

Reluctantly, Thatch lay back down, though he couldn't feel the mattress underneath him. "What kind of power is this?" he wondered out loud.

"It definitely has something to do with darkness," Izo said softly.

"Will I disappear if you'd turn out the light?"

"Of course not," Izo said, but he didn't get up to try it out. Instead, he lay down next to Thatch again.

"What if it is permanent?" Thatch asked. He tried to take Izo's hand, going through it once more.

"It's not," Izo promised him. "Ace got his powers under control, as did Marco when he was little. Why would you be different?"

"Yeah, but…" Thatch started. "Marco was a kid when it happened. Kids learn fast. And Ace had trained his powers before they were taken away. Besides, he's younger than me still."

"I'm sure that because Ace had trained his powers, he didn't become fire, like Marco thought he might," Izo said firmly. "Your body will get used to them as well, it might just take a little longer."

"So I'll have to spend several days, maybe even weeks as a shadow?"

Izo sighed. "Maybe. But you'll figure out how to control them. I'm sure of it. Please try to get some sleep."

Thatch remained silent, but he did close his eyes. At least he could still feel the warmth radiating from Izo, even if he couldn't touch him.

When he woke up again, it was dusk, and he wondered if it was early in the morning or evening. Izo was gone, so it was probably the latter, and Thatch had slept for a long time. Unfortunately, that had done nothing for his translucent state.

He tried to push himself off the mattress – except that his hand went straight though it. This took some getting used to. Finally, he managed to get up. Turning the doorknob was the next challenge, as he went through it again, and finally, pissed, he just tried to step through it. To his surprise, it actually worked.

Marco, Ace, and Izo were sitting in the living room. They didn't appear to hear him coming in – why would they? – causing Ace to jump a meter into the air when Thatch suddenly asked behind him, "So, what's going on?"

"Holy fuck!" Ace exclaimed, grabbing at his heart. When he got over the initial shock, he turned to face Thatch. "So you're really a shadow?"

"Apparently," Thatch said.

"That is so cool!" Ace held out his hand and waved it though Thatch's dematerialised body. "Do you feel this?"

"No, but you should still stop that!"

"How about this?" Ace's hand caught fire, and out of reflex, Thatch jumped backwards.

"Watch it!"

"So light and darkness, huh?" Ace said, looking at his still burning hand. "I'd never thought you and me would be mortal enemies," he added in a grave voice.

Thatch snorted.

"Hello, boys," a voice suddenly sounded. Shanks was once again sitting on the windowsill, climbing inside.

"You know, I have a perfectly functional door," Marco said with a sigh.

"Wasn't it you who said, 'why use the door if there is a perfectly good window?'" Izo reminded him.

Marco sighed. "That's different. I can fly."

"Doors are no fun." Shanks walked straight over to Thatch and looked him up and down. "You've been a naughty boy."

"I have?" Thatch asked confusedly. He thought Shanks would be pleased that he had his seastone removed.

"Sure! I mean, I'd never had guessed you'd be the one to have the powers of darkness."

"I didn't know. Not for sure anyway." Thatch got a little nervous when Shanks walked around him to observe him.

"So you're really a shadow of your former self." Shanks looked at him with a grin.

"I already made that joke," Thatch said, though it hadn't really been funny at the time. He wasn't sure if it was now either.

Shanks sighed. "Well, great minds and all that."

"Fools seldom differ," Marco piped up, a small smile on his face.

Shanks gave him a deadpanned look. "You're just jealous because we have awesome hair." He tried to place a hand on Thatch's shoulder, only to almost lose his balance when he went straight through him. "Right, this takes some getting used to."

"Tell me about it," Thatch said in a plaintive voice. "I mean, I can't even…" He trailed off, but his eyes moved to Izo.

Shanks followed his gaze. "I'm sure that must be hard," he said with a grin.

Thatch's eyes narrowed. "I meant kiss him."

"I'm sure. I mean, who wouldn't want that?" Shanks waggled his eyebrows before flopping down on the couch next to Izo, who tried to hide his amused smile behind his hand.

"Does your visit have a purpose or just to flirt inappropriately?" Marco asked Shanks.

"Why, jealous I haven't gotten to you yet?" Shanks smirked. "I don't see why I can't mix business with pleasure."

"What business?" Izo asked.

"Well, first of all to see if it was true that your boyfriend has the powers of darkness the government likes so much," Shanks said. "Which, it seems, it is."

"How do you know?" Thatch asked. "I mean, maybe I have another kind of darkness powers."

"I doubt it. It's good to know that you're on our side, though."

"Who says I'm on your side?" Thatch asked defiantly. Ever since he saved Izo from Teach, nothing had gone like he expected or wanted. He hadn't even wanted to have his powers, yet here they were. He was tired of being used as a toy.

"Believe me, from all parties involved, you'd rather be on our side," Shanks said, a serious look on his face. "First, there is the government, and they have been using you like a guinea pig without your knowledge or permission. I don't assume you want to be on their side. And then there are some shady parties who want to use people's powers for their own gain, preferably with the same technology as the government."

"What about you?" Izo asked sceptically.

"We? We just want every seastone removed."

"But why?" Izo pressed. "Do you have powers?"

Shanks threw his head back and laughed. "Me? No, but some of my best friends do. But basically, I just enjoy being a rebel."

"You said 'first of all'. What is your other reason for being here?" Marco asked.

Shanks' face turned serious again and he leaned with his elbows on his knees as he looked at Thatch. "As I said, the government is very interested in your power, because they think it's very powerful. They let you walk around because they can't crack the power and you didn't know anyway. Now that they can't keep tabs on you anymore, they will start looking for you."

Thatch gulped.

"And that's not all," Shanks continued. "The other parties I just mentioned, they want your power as well. There is one in particular who you do not want to meet."

"Who's that?" Marco asked.

Shanks' eyes shifted back to Thatch, and with a grave voice, he said, "He calls himself Blackbeard."

There was something about that name that sounded familiar, but Thatch didn't know why. It couldn't have to do with the historical pirate, could it? Thatch had always been interested in piracy, so he knew quite a bit about that, but he doubted that would help him now.

All the eyes in the room were aimed at him, and he sighed deeply. Why did he have to have this power? Why couldn't he have had a power people were less interested in, like Ace?


	5. Chapter 4

Happy belated birthday, MyLadyDay

Thanks Vergina-spva for beta'ing

Warnings: (mentions of) torture, violence, sexual content

* * *

Ace woke up with a gasp, feeling slightly disoriented. He was lying on his own couch, blinking against the light. He was sure something had woken him up, but his apartment was silent. Luffy was out somewhere, and Ace didn't think he wanted to know where and with whom. Somehow, trouble always found its way to Luffy.

The buzzer sounded, and Ace realised that must be what had woken him. He rubbed his eyes and stretched himself before he moved to the speaker next to his door. "Hello?" he asked.

"Hi," Marco's voice sounded, and Ace couldn't help a grin creeping up his face. The past few days with Marco had been great. He had been to Ace's place once before, but they mostly met at the animal shelter or at the place where Izo and Thatch stayed. It did mean they hadn't had much privacy, so they hadn't done more than kiss a little.

Which made Marco's surprise visit even better. Ace hastened himself to buzz Marco in. He didn't doubt Marco could get in if he wanted to, but it was light out, so he would probably draw attention to himself if he transformed. Besides, it was nice to know that he respected Ace's privacy enough to ring the doorbell.

There was a knock on the door a minute or so after Ace had let Marco in, and it was indeed Marco who was standing on his doorstep. The grin that had appeared on Ace's face when Marco's voice had sounded still wouldn't disappeared, no matter how he tried.

"Hey," he said as he stepped aside.

"Hi," Marco replied, mirroring his facial expression.

That was the only warning Ace got before they went at each other like horny teenagers. Ace wasn't sure who started, but he couldn't say he cared much. Somehow, they landed on the couch, Marco on top of him with his knee between Ace's legs. It rubbed against his groin, and Ace bucked his hips to get more friction. Marco didn't stop kissing him, caressing his body and keeping his knee in place.

Ace hadn't realised how much sexual frustration had been pent up inside of him until now. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't bring himself to and Marco did nothing to discourage him. His orgasm was soon building up and when he reached his climax, it felt like his body explode.

His euphoria didn't last long, however, as he was roughly brought down from his high when a cold foam like substance suddenly covered him. Wiping the stuff from his eyes, he saw Marco standing ready with a fire extinguisher.

"I think we should put having an orgasm on the list of things you shouldn't do near flammable objects," Marco said, but the amusement was evident in his voice.

There was indeed a smell of something burning in the air, and despite the white foam, Ace could see a blackened circle around him on the couch. He had never felt this embarrassed in his life.

Marco pulled a serious face and sat down next to Ace, on the part of the couch that hadn't been burned. "Don't worry about it. It'll pass."

"Did you have things like this?" Ace asked, still mortified.

"Not with the orgasms, no, but I hadn't hit puberty yet. But do you know how annoying it is to turn into a bird every time you sneeze?"

Ace looked up, his eyes narrowed. "You're just saying that."

"I'm serious." Marco took Ace's hands. "Alright, it only happened once or twice, but still. I promise, you'll have your powers fully under control before you know it."

Ace sighed. "I guess. I should take a shower." He rose from the couch and walked to the bathroom, leaving a trail of white foam behind. At the door, he turned around. "Are you okay, by the way? Do you need…" He made a vague gesture with his hand, hoping Marco would understand.

He grinned. "Maybe I'll take a shower when you're done."

Marco's laid back attitude brought back Ace's confidence. "How about you join me then?" he asked. "To save water and all that." He turned around and walked into the bathroom. There, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and almost burst into laughter. He was quite a sight, covered from head to toe in white foam. He hardly looked sexy right now, but still Marco hastened himself to follow him.

Ace took off his shorts and dove into the shower, washing the foam and cum off himself before Marco joined him. They continued where they had left, though this time, Ace took the opportunity to check out Marco's body, if only to confirm his suspicions that Marco was ridiculously hot.

However, not matter how much Ace enjoyed Marco kissing his neck, his ears pricked up when he heard the sound of the front door shutting. He placed a hand on Marco's shoulder to stop him.

"Aaaaace! Are you home?" Luffy called.

Even someone as dense as Luffy should realise at some point that the shower was running, so Ace sighed and called back, "I'm in the shower!"

"'Kay! I brought some friends!"

Somehow, that didn't sit well with Ace, and he turned the shower cold to get rid of his boner, completely forgetting about Marco until he hissed. Ace quickly apologised and started to dry himself off, until he remembered his powers and evaporated the water. Still, the towel came in useful as his clothes were dirty, so he wrapped it around himself and ran into the living room. There he found a group of people he didn't know or who looked vaguely familiar, but he was surprised to see Usopp and Ms Nico.

Before he could ask, though, Luffy came standing next to him and said, "This is my big brother, Ace." He sounded so proud, it was endearing. It also made Ace aware that he was only wearing a towel, and while he wasn't shy by nature, he did feel a little exposed right now.

"Ehm, hi," he said. "Why are you in my house?"

"Luffy invited us," a red haired woman said. She introduced herself as Nami.

"You don't look sick to me," Usopp suddenly said, a little accusingly.

Ace turned to him. After he got his powers back, he had called in sick from work so that he could first learn to control it and not spontaneously combust with his colleagues around. Rayleigh might know about him, but that didn't mean everyone should. Usopp had been sweet enough to bring him soup, but Ace had told him he had something contagious and not let him in. He felt guilty about that, even if it had also been for Usopp's own good.

"Well," he started, but Usopp crossed his arms before his chest and snorted.

"Save it, Luffy already told me about your powers."

"He did what?! Dammit, Luffy, you're such a blabbermouth!" Ace hit him on the back of his head, only to have his hand bounce back. He'd never get used to that.

"But Aaaace," Luffy whined, "they're so cool!"

"I can't believe Law ever agreed to remove your implant," Ace said with a sigh.

"You do realise that the Ace I know would never stand in just a towel, right?" Usopp pointed out. "Since you're not wearing several layers, I'd know something's up anyway."

Ace was going to reply, when Marco chose that moment to join them. He was fully dressed, but his hair was still wet from the shower.

"It seems that there have been very local showers," Nami said with a catlike grin.

"So it would seem," Marco said deadpanned, ignoring all the eyes on him. "I'm Marco, by the way."

The rest of the group introduced themselves as well, and only now Ace realised where he knew two of the people from. They were Izo's cook and butler, Sanji and Zoro. Ace and Luffy had met them when they had picked up some things for Izo at his house. But why they were here, along with everyone else, someone had yet to explain, so Ace decided to ask as much.

"Oh," Luffy said, picking his nose, "we're gonna beat up the government." He looked at his finger to see what kind of treasure he had found.

Ace whipped around, barely remembering in time to hold un to his towel. "I'm sorry, what?!"

"Mr Captain is right," Ms Nico, or Robin, as she had introduced herself, said with a mysterious smile on her lips.

Ace gaped at her. "Why?" Then he blinked and added, "Captain?"

"Do you really need to ask?" Robin said. Suddenly, three more arms sprouted from her body and Ace jumped back, eyes wide.

"You have powers too?" He turned to Usopp. "You too?"

Usopp crossed his arms before his chest and threw his head back as he laughed. "Of course! I have the most terrifying powers…" He trailed off when everyone gave him a deadpanned look and cleared his throat. "Eh, no. I do not."

"How did you even meet Lu?" Ace exclaimed. "How did any of you?"

Usopp shrugged. "He came in to talk to Mr Silvers. Did you know he served time?"

Ace fidgeted about uncomfortably. They came dangerously close to talking about his father. "I recently found out."

"Hey Ace, you wanna join my crew too?" Luffy said, unbeknownst saving him. He was grinning broadly.

Ace looked around the people in his living room. He wasn't sure how, but it seemed that Luffy had attracted a lot of loyal people around him in a short time. It didn't really surprise him; Luffy had always made friends easily. Still, he couldn't join his little brother's crew, his honour as a big brother was at stake. So he needed to do something bold.

"I have something else to do," he said. "I need to break someone from prison." He grinned at the surprised looks he got.

Marco touched his arm. "Are you sure?" he asked with a frown.

Ace smiled at him. "Yeah."

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Ace looked at Luffy to see if he was expecting someone. Luffy just shrugged. Exchanging a look with Marco, Ace walked to the door. He hadn't heard the doorbell, which meant that it had to be either someone who lived in the building, or someone was let in by someone who lived there.

Ace opened the door, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Detective Smoker was standing in the hallway, two unlit cigars in his mouth.

"D-detective Smoker!" Ace exclaimed nervously. "What brings you here?"

"This isn't a social call," he grouched. "You didn't show up anymore since last time, so I figured you'd done something stupid."

Ace laughed awkwardly. "Nope, nothing stupid." It was sort of the truth, if you didn't count starting to date the Phoenix, getting his powers back, and agreeing to break a criminal out of prison.

He shifted aside, and unfortunately, Smoker took that as an invitation to come in. He waltzed past Ace to the living room, and Ace hastened himself after him, cursing his own stupidity.

Smoker suddenly stopped in his tracks, almost causing Ace to collide with him. "Did you set your couch on fire?" He had obviously seen the black stain on the couch that was still covered with white foam.

Ace had been so happy none of Luffy's friends had asked, but now he had to come up with something. "Ehm, it was an accident?" It hardly sounded convincing.

"How do you accidentally set your couch on fire?" Smoker raised an eyebrow.

"Simple," Robin said, saving him. "He must have knocked over a candle." She sipped her tea, which she no doubt made herself while Ace was in the shower, as if nothing was going on. "It is very fortunate he isn't burned alive himself."

Ace scratched the back of his head, slightly disturbed by her words. "Eh, yeah! S-so these are my brother's friends," he hastily said, changing the subject.

Fortunately, it seemed to work. Smoker looked around the room full of straight faces. He paused when he saw Marco, who just gave him a nod and said, "'Sup?" Ace almost got a heart attack, but Smoker just grouched something and turned back to Ace.

"So what about your accusations against the Phoenix?" Smoker asked.

Ace could practically feel Marco's gaze on him, even though Ace had his back turned to him. "I'd like to recant those."

"What about the glasses you brought me?"

Ace wished Smoker would do his name justice and disappear into thin air. There were some things he hadn't told Marco yet. In the mirror above the couch, he saw Marco taking off his new glasses and polishing them with his shirt, as if he were taunting Smoker. Or Ace, Ace wasn't sure.

Unfortunately, Ace also saw Luffy picking his nose again, only this time, his arm was wrapped around the back of his head in order to reach his nose. Ace's eyes widened, but Nami noticed it too and dove on Luffy to make him behave, at the same time Sanji and Zoro tried the same. They collided, and their sudden movements drew Smoker's attention, as he turned around. They tried to act casually, smiling innocently at Smoker, though Sanji was draped over Luffy's lap, and Zoro and Nami were yanking at Luffy's arm.

Ace didn't hesitate for a moment and let go of his towel, which dropped to the floor, exposing himself to the whole room. Smoker turned back, looking at Ace like he had personally offended his mother.

"Whoops," Ace just said and bent down to pick up the towel. Now he was certain he had Marco's attention, with his naked ass dangling in his face. "Anyway," he continued casually when he was decent again, "I was wrong about the Phoenix."

Smoker raised his eyebrow. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I was overworked," Ace said with a shrug. "Now that I've had some rest, I realise you were right. I had no proof whatsoever. I've just been trying so hard to write a story that I actually started believing it." He laughed, though it sounded fake to him. Now he only hoped that Smoker would buy it.

Smoker seemed to search for something in his face, perhaps hesitance or a lie, but Ace looked him straight in the eye, and finally, Smoker seemed to believe him. "Well, I'd better not catch you in my precinct again," he said gruffly and made for the door.

Only when it was shut with a bang did Ace dare to breathe easily. "That was close. Lu, you'd better behave yourself next time!"

Luffy pouted. "Boo."

"And could you stop looking at my crotch?" Ace asked Nami.

She shrugged. "He's doing it too." She nodded in Marco's direction, who looked innocently away.

Ace snorted and turned around to finally put on something decent. Marco followed him to his room. "I don't know what you're expecting, but we're not continuing our activities with Lu and his friends in the next room," Ace said.

Marco smirked. "I know." Then his face turned serious. "I just want you to be sure about getting Pops out."

"I am sure." Ace grabbed a clean pair of boxers and shorts from the cabinet and dropped the towel.

It took a few seconds for Marco to reply, no doubt because he was checking out Ace's body. "When did you decide that?"

Ace pulled on his boxers and turned around. Marco was sitting on his bed. "Just now."

"When your brother said he was going to overthrow the government?"

"Punching them in the face," Ace corrected him. "And yes. Kinda. Look," he continued when he saw Marco's sceptical face, "I'm not doing this because I want to top what Luffy does. I doubt this would, anyway. I know how much you miss your father, and in the end, he is basically the reason we're together. I mean, if he hadn't told me where to find you, I'd still try to unmask you."

"Like you did with detective Smoker?" Marco asked, amusement clear in his voice.

Ace stepped forward so he was standing between Marco's legs and intertwined his fingers with his hair. "I had just realised I almost slept with the Phoenix."

"Just like today?" Marco asked, smirking.

"Today I meant to." Ace leaned down and kissed him. When he pulled back, he said, "I really want to help you."

Marco looked him straight in the eye, but when he didn't see any hesitation, he smiled. "Thank you, Ace."

* * *

Through the bushes, they watched the maximum security prison Impel Down. It was dark already and visitor hours were long over, but Marco had visited Pops' that afternoon to give him a heads-up about what was going to happen at night. Of course, he couldn't just plainly state that he was going to break him out, but Marco hoped he got the gist of it.

Next to him, Ace was crouched down, looking at the prison with a very determined look on his face. Marco would have been eternally grateful if he had even considered to help Pops, but the fact that Ace was actually here tonight almost felt surreal.

Perhaps they should have taken more time to prepare, but Shanks had informed him that he heard a rumour that Pops was going to be transferred to an unknown location. If Marco didn't act now, he might never see Pops again. Fortunately, Ace hadn't changed his mind, despite the lack of preparation time. Or perhaps rather because of it, because Ace was more a man of action. They only needed to break him out and get him to a safe place. Not Marco's apartment, nor Ace's, but Marco had many hideouts so he would think of something.

"So what's the plan?" a deep voice suddenly asked, and Marco covered Ace's mouth to prevent him from yelping. Marco had sensed the man's presence, but Ace obviously hadn't. Still, that Marco knew he was here didn't mean that he had any idea why.

"Who are you?" he whispered, slowly releasing Ace.

"It's Benn," the man, Benn, apparently, replied curtly. "You're not thinking about storming the prison, are you?"

"I think he means, why are you here?" Ace hissed, seemingly recovered from the shock.

"Shanks sent me to help you."

"You're some kind of soldier?" Ace asked hopefully.

"Close." Benn cast a glance at the prison. "I'm a paediatrician."

That took both Marco and Ace aback. "Well, that's great if we get a boo-boo," the latter stammered. Marco, on the other hand, knew he shouldn't underestimate Benn, despite his job. Shanks needed Pops to be out too, so he wouldn't send just anyone. He would send someone he trusted, and whom he trusted to be strong and resilient.

Ace shook his head. "With a journalist, a thief and a paediatrician, we'd only have to walk into a bar and we'd be the beginning of a bad joke."

"How about we add a forger and a thief to that?" another voice whispered, and once again, Marco could barely stop Ace from yelping.

Thatch and Izo were sitting on either side of them, crouched down.

"Will everyone stop giving me a heart attack?" Ace hissed.

"What are you doing here?" Marco asked.

Izo shrugged. "We wanted to help. You don't think we knew what you were up to? Please. Who's the hot guy?"

"Why, I'm Thatch, you should know that by now," Thatch said, flashing him a grin.

Izo rolled his eyes, but smiled. "I meant Salt-'n-Pepper over here." He nodded at Benn.

"It's Benn," Ace and Benn said simultaneously.

Marco smiled, but then turned to Izo. "Are you certain?" he asked, concerned.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't. Look," he continued, "you've helped us out when we needed you, so we owe you. Besides, I'm tired of hiding all the time."

"If we pull this off, there'll be a lot more hiding, though," Marco remarked sceptically.

"Don't worry about us," Izo said with a smile. "We're here out of our own free will."

"So how do you want to go about it?" Benn asked.

"The plan was to have Ace climb on my back, so that he could melt the bars, or at least cut through them," Marco replied.

"That won't work."

"Why not?" Marco asked slightly indignantly. It was the best plan he had been able to come up with in such a short time, and it was a decent one, if he said so himself.

"The bars are coated with seastone. His powers won't work," Benn explained.

Marco's face fell. His plan had relied on the fact that the government would be confident enough that giving the inmates implants would be sufficient, and that they wouldn't expect someone to be stupid enough to break in.

"They'd have built the entire thing of seastone if the material wasn't so damn rare," Benn grouched.

"Maybe I can help," Thatch piped up. "If that's the case, then the walls will be of regular stone. I can go through them." In the past few days, Thatch still wasn't able to materialise again. If it bothered him, and it probably did, he didn't show it, being his cheerful self.

"And then what? Pops can't go through walls with you and you can't even hold a key," Marco snapped. He knew he was being mean, as Thatch couldn't be happy with his situation and he was only trying to help, but it was frustrating that his plan was shot down so quickly.

"Maybe this'll help." Benn reached into his pocket and took out a bracelet with a small bead.

Thatch stretched out his hand, probably out of force of habit, but the second he touched the bead, he materialised again. "Is this… seastone? How did you get it?" he asked Benn as he slipped on the bracelet.

Benn shrugged. "We have to do something with the seastones that get removed."

"So you make a fashion statement out of them?" Izo said with a snort.

Thatch looked at the bracelet and made a face. "You mean this has been inside of someone?"

"If nothing that had been inside someone could be reused, we'd have a problem, no doubt," Benn replied, the corner of his mouth curled up in an amused smirk.

Ace snorted, as did Izo, and even Marco couldn't help the grin on his face, but then he pulled a straight face again.

"So then I'll take Thatch on my back and take him to Pops' cell. What will you be doing?" he asked.

"Causing a distraction."

"I can do that," Ace called out, a little too excited, but his enthusiasm was endearing.

"We don't have much time," Benn continued. "If we don't get to him before he is transported, we've missed our opportunity. We can't take out the entire squad that will accompany him."

"We better get moving then." Marco gave Ace a kiss in goodbye, watching Thatch and Izo do the same. It must have been frustrating not to be able to touch each other for several days. If that had happened to him… His hand caressed Ace's thigh, and Ace's grin told him that he knew what Marco was thinking. Giving him another quick peck, Ace scrambled to his feet, flames sprouting from his face in a similar mask as Marco wore as the Phoenix. Marco smirked.

Izo had thought of masks as well, as had Benn. For the occasion, Marco put on a normal mask, so they wouldn't recognise him as the Phoenix until he actually transformed, and he urged Ace to do the same, despite being flattered by his homage. The government knew who wielded the power of fire. Whether or not they knew Ace's implant had been removed, Marco wasn't sure – he doubted it, otherwise Ace would certainly have gotten another – but they would see for themselves if Ace used the flame mask. When they all had obscured their faces, they nodded at each other before splitting up into two groups.

Thatch ran after Marco, keeping low. Impel Down reminded Marco of an old dungeon, with high walls and barred windows. He was also pretty sure the circumstances inside were less than ideal, hell, borderline criminal, but Pops had never complained so he couldn't be sure. In all, though, the government seemed to rely on old fashioned methods to keep people out, though Marco knew it was more modern on the inside. Marco hoped they would get as far that that could pose a problem.

Underneath what Marco knew to be Pops' cell, he stopped and transformed into his bird form and Thatch climbed onto his back. "Last chance to change your mind," Marco said grimly.

"Izo didn't force me to come here, you know," Thatch said with a smile. "Besides," he added jokingly, "he would kill me if I backed out now. I can do this."

Marco nodded, put at ease, and pushed off the ground. The only thing he needed to do was stay clear of the large spotlights. When he had reached Pops' cell, Thatch threw the bracelet Benn had given him inside through the window. He turned into a shadow again and passed through the wall.

Because Marco couldn't speak in bird form – he had no lips, after all – he turned his head back to normal. "Pops," he whispered.

"Hello sons."

Marco had to smile at hearing the deep, soothing voice. The plural indicated that Pops had noticed Thatch already as well.

"Hello, sir," he heard Thatch say cheerfully. "I'm here to get you out."

Pops started to laugh. "No need to be so formal, son. Call me Pops."

"Ehm, okay."

Marco had to smile at how taken aback Thatch sounded, but it was very much like his father to say a thing like that. He had never been one for formalities.

"What's the sudden hurry?" Pops asked, and Marco assumed the question was directed at him. In Pops' cell it was dark so he couldn't be sure, but decided to answer anyway.

"They're going to transfer you, and no one knows where," Marco said. "So we need to get you out of here as soon as possible."

"Did Ace visit you?"

"Yes, he did." Marco smiled fondly.

Pops no doubt heard something in his voice, because he burst out in laughter. "Sounds like you got it bad!"

Marco was about to reprimand him, but suddenly a search light went past him, barely missing him and he cursed. "Thatch, I have to hide!"

"Okay, don't worry about us!" Thatch called, still sounding cheerful.

Of course, Marco had no intention of not worrying, but there wasn't anything he could do now. He had to find a place to hide. Going down was an option, but there was always a possibility that there was a patrol there. They probably wouldn't look up.

Marco flew upwards along the smooth wall, searching for a ledge where he could land on. About halfway up the prison, there was a small ridge. Marco landed and transformed into his human form, pressing himself flat against the wall when another searchlight almost hit him.

"Hello there."

Marco cursed as he almost fell off the ledge, barely managing to hold himself onto the bars of the cell he was standing in front. He had noticed the presence in the cell, but he hadn't expected them to notice _him_.

"Careful, it's a big drop," the voice sounded again. A man with a large black moustache and thick curly hair came into the little light the moon provided. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Marco steadied himself on the ridge. "That's okay." Another searchlight passed, and Marco pressed himself against the wall again.

It didn't look like he was going anywhere for the moment. Besides, where could he go? He couldn't help Thatch, as he couldn't go inside, and it wasn't like Pops would fit through the tiny window anyway. He would have to trust Thatch would get him out safely.

For now, all he could do was wait, and besides, the guy inside seemed up for a chat, so why not?

"I'm Marco," he said, reaching inside though the bars.

"Vista," he replied. "So, what are you up to, Marco? I don't get many visitors, and certainly not on that side."

"I'm breaking someone out," Marco replied. "Well, not me, per se, but my buddy is as we speak."

"Oh, who?"

"Edward Newgate."

"Oh, you know Pops? Edward, I mean," Vista corrected himself. "He is a hard man to dislike."

"I do, he's my dad." Marco instantly knew that he had been right in trusting that Vista wouldn't call the guards when he revealed his scheme. If Whitebeard let this man call him Pops, he was trustworthy.

"Oh, you're _that_ Marco!" Vista plucked at his moustache. "Well, if it isn't too much trouble, would you mind breaking me out too?"

"I'd be happy to, but as I said, my friend is doing the actual breaking out part," Marco explained.

"Oh, the breaking out part I can do myself." To Marco's utter surprise, he yanked at the bars of his cell, which came out without much resistance. "The point is getting down without breaking my neck," Vista continued. "As you can see, we're quite high up, so jumping is not really an option. But seeing you got here somehow, you might know how to get down as well."

A smirk appeared on Marco's face. "That I do." He shifted into his bird form. "Hop on."

Vista did as he was told, jumping from the window and landing on his back. Marco wasn't sure what he should do now, when suddenly an explosion sounded. Instinctively, he knew Ace and the others were the cause of it.

He put Vista on the ground, determined to go help the others, when suddenly two figures came running towards him, one carrying someone on their back. It turned out that Ace was sitting on Benn's back. When he saw Marco look, he smiled sheepishly. "I got a boo-boo."

In the distance two more figures followed, one of which the large form he recognised all too well. A smile appeared on his face and he lifted up his arm to wave, when he suddenly collided with Izo.

* * *

Izo rubbed his painful forehead, but was glad to see Marco unharmed. Well, unharmed before he collided with Izo, but he would live.

They needed to get out of here, and fast. Perhaps they should have arranged a getaway vehicle. Just as he thought it, an ambulance stopped in front of them with shrieking tires. The backdoors flung open, revealing Shanks. "You'd better get in."

His words were a little redundant, and his eyes widened comically when everyone dove into the ambulance at the same time, toppling him. Once everyone had pulled their legs inside, the doors were closed again and the ambulance drove off.

Now that the chaos has settled down a little, Izo had time to catch his breath and look around. Somehow, he had ended up in Shanks' lap, but it was really the only place to sit, so he didn't make an effort to move. Thatch, Marco and Ace were present, as well as Benn. A large man Izo imagined was Marco's dad had also somehow made it into the ambulance. The last person Izo didn't know. He had a large moustache and curly black hair. Perhaps another alley of Shanks'?

"Man, I'm so pumped!" Thatch explained as he tried to scramble to his feet. "I can't believe I broke someone out of prison! We should do something else! I know! Let's rob a bank! Well, that would be peanuts for you of course," he said to Marco, slightly disappointed when realisation hit him, but he got excited again. "But we should really _do_ something."

"How about sitting down until the adrenaline wears off," Marco said amused.

Thatch pouted.

"It's a bit more crowded than I expected," Shanks said plaintively, grabbing onto something when the ambulance made a swivel. Whoever was driving drove like a maniac. "Not that I'm complaining about my situation," Shanks added, amusement evident in his voice. His hands slid up Izo's leg.

Izo slapped them away. "Behave."

"Oh, this is Vista, by the way," Marco introduced the unknown newcomer.

"Did you break him out too?" Shanks asked.

"While I was at it." Marco shrugged.

Vista nodded at them. "Nice to meet you."

They all introduced themselves, and Marco introduced his father to everyone.

Benn moved like he had done nothing else his entire life, not staggering once, despite the movements of the vehicle. "Sit down," he said to Ace. When they had caused a distraction, Ace had gotten hurt because a guard almost caught him. The man had tackled him, but Benn had knocked him out swiftly with the rifle he carried on his back. He hadn't fired a shot once.

It had earned Ace a nasty cut in his leg, though.

"I'm fine," Ace said hastily. "Perhaps you should check out Mr Newgate first."

Mr Newgate started to laugh, throwing his head back, and Izo could swear the ambulance trembled even more. "No need to be so polite, son. Call me Pops. And there's nothing wrong with me. Well, nothing a drink of rum won't cure."

"Way ahead of ya." Shanks retrieved a bottle, took a swig and handed it to Mr Newgate. It was emptied faster than a man of Newgate's age probably should, but Shanks had another bottle, which was passed around. Only Benn didn't drink, as he was busy checking up on Ace.

Only now Izo noticed Thatch looking at him, and that Thatch was still solid. He had barely seen him like that for days now, and he couldn't help but smile. If it hadn't been so crowded in the ambulance, Izo would have walked over to kiss him, but he was kind of stuck where he was. Thatch smiled back broadly. It did seem the adrenaline had worn off a bit, though. Izo couldn't wait until they were alone.

"Good to see you nice and solid again," Shanks said to Thatch, as if reading Izo's mind.

Thatch smiled tiredly, looking at the bracelet he was wearing. "Yeah, though I hope I won't need it for long." He yawned, and only then Izo realised how tired he was. He slumped back, leaning against Shanks. Ace had fallen asleep on the stretcher, a narcoleptic attack, probably.

Marco caressed his hair lovingly, but then he turned around. "So what happened? I'm glad to see you all safe, but how did you pull it off?"

"Well," Thatch started, "it wasn't easy, 'cause Mr, eh, Pops was also cuffed, so I had to get the keys. But in order to go out of the cell, I had to be a shadow, but to get the keys, I couldn't be, you know? So it would have been great if I had controlled my power. Anyway, I left the bracelet with Pops to go look for the keys. No one really saw me, 'cause it was dark and most people were asleep. The guards are watching some kind of sports game. So I see the keys, but can't fetch them, but fortunately there are seastone handcuffs, so I get them, the keys and then get the hell out of there. They were too engrossed to see anything. So I got back to Pops' cell, open the door and get him out, before getting rid of the cuff – which I wasn't stupid enough to put on, mind you, I was just holding them. So then Pops still has the bracelet and I went ahead as shadow to see if the coast was clear. And it was all going great, we were almost out, but…" He sighed. "Then _they_ happened."

As if on cue, Ace woke up. "I'm up," he muttered, wiping the drool from his face. When he saw that most of the people present were looking at him, he looked confused. "What?"

"Thatch was just explaining what happened in the prison," Izo said. "Do you want to continue the story?"

Ace pulled an innocent face. "You act like it's _my_ fault."

"Well, you're the one who lit the grenade."

"How was I supposed to know Benn carried grenades?" Ace huffed. "I was just setting things on fire, is all."

"He set the wrong thing on fire," Izo said with a sigh.

Ace turned up his nose, but Marco and Pops had to laugh. "Well, you all got out," Marco said.

They lapsed into silence, all tired of the adventures of tonight. Izo was dozing off, when he noticed Newgate looking at him. He straightened a little, suddenly nervous under the curious look.

"I haven't had the chance to tell you," Newgate said, "but I love your art."

Slightly surprised, but pleasantly so, Izo sat up. Shanks hissed, probably because Izo sat wrong on his lap, so Izo hastily shifted.

"Art?" Vista asked.

"Yeah," Thatch said and grinned broadly, "that's the famous Izo."

"Really?" Vista studied him. "Didn't you disappear, though?"

"Disappear?" Izo asked.

Vista shrugged. "It was in the newspaper. You suddenly vanished from your home, as did your staff. So the wildest theories are out there, from you going on vacation with your staff to you all being assassinated because of unpaid debts."

Izo snorted. "Well, as you can see, neither is the case."

"Indeed." Vista grinned. "You've disappeared to break out criminals."

"What did you do, by the way?" Marco asked.

"Shouldn't you have asked him that _before_ you broke him out?" Thatch asked.

Marco shrugged. "Pops trusted him, so why shouldn't I?"

Izo was impressed with the unwavering trust Marco portrayed.

"I was at the wrong place at the wrong time," Vista said, keeping it vague. "Your art is great, though," he said to Izo.

"Why, thank you," Izo said, a smile on your lips. Vista obviously wanted to talk about something else, and he happily obliged. "Which one do you like best?" he asked Newgate. He was aware that he was fishing for compliments, but he had been used to receiving them on a daily basis until he had to go into hiding.

Pops hummed, thinking for a moment. "Difficult to choose. But I was definitely impressed by your personification of the seven deadly sins."

Stunned, Izo stared at him.

"Which one is that, Izo?" Thatch asked. "I don't think I know that one."

"V-very few people do," Izo stammered. "I made that in secondary school. How would you…?" His mind flashed back to one or another boring event his parents had hosted when he was fifteen or sixteen. He had to be present, but just sat in the corner, trying to be invisible. He had been working on his deadly sins project then, when a man came up to him, complimenting his work. Now, he realised that Mr Newgate was that very same man.

"You're my anonymous sponsor," he whispered. He had no evidence to support that claim, but he knew he was right, especially when Pops grinned at him.

"You had an anonymous sponsor too? So… did… I…" Ace trailed off when the implication dawned on him. He looked at Pops as well.

"Me too!" Thatch exclaimed.

"As did I," Vista said, plucking his moustache.

"Pops?" Marco asked.

Pops grinned and took another swig from the bottle in his hand. "I prefer to see them as investments."

"You never told me this," Marco said, sounding slightly accusingly. "How many others are there?"

"Oh, I don't know." Under Marco's piercing stare, Pops suddenly looked like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "Fifteen in total. Sixteen including you."

It was weird to finally see his anonymous sponsor in real life. Izo had imagined what he would look like, but never someone like this. He wasn't even sure why he was picked in the first place. If there were only sixteen of them, there had to be something special about them, right? But Izo's parents hadn't even been poor. Of course, they didn't support him in pursuing art, but there had been many people who could have used Pops' help more than he.

Still, Izo was enormously grateful that Pops had believed in him. He had given Izo the chance to pursue his dream, and in addition, he was the warm father figure Izo had been craving. He would gladly call him Pops.

He couldn't help but wonder how Marco was taking it, though. Marco hadn't known that Pops had been investing in other people besides his own son, so Izo wondered if he would be jealous. Izo certainly wouldn't blame him.

However, when he looked at Marco, Marco sent him a warm, genuinely happy smile back, and it dawned on Izo that they were the siblings Marco always wanted but never had. He had a family. They all did.

The hatch separating them from the people in the front seats opened and a man with dreadlocks put his head through. "That looks cosy," he said with a grin.

"It's damned cramped in here," Shanks said in a plaintive voice. "Did we shake them yet?"

"We shook them a long time ago."

"Then why is Roo still driving like a maniac?"

"Because it's Roo." The man grinned again and put his hand through the hatch so that Izo, who was closest, could shake it. "I'm Yasopp, by the way."

"I'm Izo." He introduced the others insofar they weren't able to do it themselves.

"So what now?" Yasopp asked Shanks when everyone had had their turn. "Back to the base, or…?"

"Where do you want to go?" Shanks asked the rest of them.

"Let's go to my house," Izo said suddenly.

Thatch looked up, as did Ace. "Are you sure," the former asked, a worried frown on his face. "What if that guy's still there?"

"Then I'll punch him in the face," Izo said heatedly. "I told you, I'm done running. I can't believe I've let myself driven out of my own house because of that lowlife."

"You're really sexy when you get mad," Shanks said. When Izo had slapped away his hand again, he continued, "I do urge you to be careful around that man, though."

"We don't even know if he's still watching my house," Izo snorted. "Please, just take us there. We can't go to Marco's place. I'm sure they will look for Pops there, since he's his son. And Ace's place is not a good idea either, as they may have seen his powers. Just like Thatch's. Once they figure out Vista is gone, they will go to his house too. Besides, I live outside the city, so not many people will see us arrive. It's really the only safe place."

"How can I refuse you anything?" Shanks said with a dramatic sigh, before turning to Yasopp. "Alright, you heard the man."

They arrived shortly after, and when Thatch opened the backdoors of the ambulance, they all but rolled outside. There was no one around, not even the creeper who had been watching Izo's house for days. Izo was almost disappointed that he couldn't punch anyone in the face.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Shanks walk up to Benn, slap his rear before kissing him passionately. It surprised him, because Shanks had been obviously flirting with him with Benn present, but Benn hadn't responded.

"I guess he's not the jealous type," he said to Ace.

"You mean Benn?" Yasopp had gotten out of the front of the ambulance. "Nah, they're in an open relationship. I don't think Benn does much with it, but Shanks sleeps around a lot. But they're happy and that's what matters." He laughed and slapped Izo on the shoulder.

"You look familiar," Ace suddenly said thoughtfully. "Do you happen to have a son of my age?"

Yasopp seemed surprised. "As a matter of fact, I do. Do you know him?"

"Usopp? Yeah, he's doing a job placement at the same paper as me. With Rayleigh Silvers."

"Silvers, eh?" Ysaopp made a face. "Not sure how pleased I am with that. But how's he doing?"

"Good, the last I spoke with him," Ace said. "Trying to overthrow the government and all that."

"That's my boy!" Yasopp slapped him on the shoulder in what appeared to be a painful way. "I should definitely buy him a beer sometimes. Y'know, when I'm not wanted by the government." He sighed.

"Well, if it's any consolation, he definitely looks up to you," Ace said with a smile.

Yasopp looked shocked for a moment, before he looked touched. "Do you hear that, Roo?" he called to a big man, who apparently had been their driver and had now gotten out of the ambulance. "My son looks up to me!"

"That's because he doesn't know you," Roo replied dryly.

"Why are you always so mean to me?" Yasopp said plaintively.

"Come on, boys." Shanks had taken a place in the passenger seat, while Benn sat behind the wheel. "Let's roll."

Yasopp and Roo climbed in the back of the ambulance and waved shortly before closing the doors. Then the vehicle sped off, though it did seem that Benn was a better driver than Roo was.

"Well, that was a wild ride," Thatch commented, before he seemed to realise his pun and laughed. "But first things first," he continued, suddenly grabbing Izo's waist and pulling him into a kiss. Izo saw no reason to complain.

* * *

Kissing Izo after days of not being able to kiss him felt amazing, but somehow, Thatch felt a little awkward. Mostly because there were people watching them, one of them a father figure Thatch had never known, so he hastily let go of Izo after the initial burst of passion.

Pops grinned at him.

"Let's go inside before we draw attention to ourselves," Marco said. It was the dead of night, after all, and they were harbouring two fugitives.

Izo produced his keys and let them all inside. Especially Vista appeared to be impressed with the mansion, just like Thatch had been the first time he was here. It seemed so long ago that he had been lying in Izo's studio to pose for the painting. The last time he had been here, he had stormed out because he had discovered that Izo was a forger. Now, Thatch had his powers back, something that was illegal, and he had just broken two people out of prison. How fast things could change.

Izo showed them all to the kitchen, where Thatch immediately started to make them all something to eat and hot cocoa. Despite the fact that both Izo and Sanji hadn't been here – Sanji apparently busy with overthrowing the government, according to Ace – the pantry was still stocked with non-perishable foods, so Thatch had enough to work with.

"Thanks, son," Pops said warmly when Thatch placed a plate in front of him. Thatch grinned back. It was thanks to this man that he had been able to go to culinary school, so making him a meal was long overdue.

They were all tired, so after eating their fill, Izo pointed them to their rooms and they retired for the night. Izo took Thatch by the hand and let him to his own room.

"Ace just asked if I had a fire blanket," Izo said frowning as he opened the door. "I thought he had his powers under control?"

Thatch shrugged. "Maybe just in case. He probably doesn't want to damage anything. Or draw the attention of the fire department."

Inside the room, Thatch's eyes were automatically drawn to the closet, where Izo kept his forged paintings. Izo noticed and let go of Thatch's hands, but Thatch grabbed them back and pulled him close.

They kissed, both letting their hands wander the other's body and enjoying the other's touch. Izo started unbuttoning Thatch's shirt and Thatch let him. He had missed Izo much.

They ended up in each other's embrace, naked on Izo's bed. Izo wrapped his arm around Thatch and placed his head on his chest.

"Thatch?" he asked softly. When Thatch hummed, he continued, "Do you think it was a mistake to come back here?"

"Do you think so?"

"I stand behind what I said, but… Something about this Teach ordeal doesn't add up. Why would he want me to work for him _that_ bad? And the way Shanks talks about him… There has to be something else."

"Well," Thatch popped himself up on his elbow, "if he does show up again, you can always kick his ass. 'Cause Shanks was right about that, you are sexy when you're mad. Well, mad at someone else, not at me."

"I could always kick your ass," Izo said, his voice low and husky as he sat up.

Thatch groaned and pulled him into a kiss, wondering briefly if, had he known that he would become a shadow, even temporarily, when his seastone was removed, he would have done it. He couldn't imagine a life without kissing and touching Izo.

He woke up again a few hours later, entangled with Izo's limbs. He was still tired, but sleep didn't want to come anymore, so he decided to get up and start on breakfast. Kissing Izo on the forehead, he untangled himself from Izo and the sheets, and walked to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Downstairs, it was completely abandoned. No doubt everyone was still asleep; it was still early, after all, and they all went to bed late.

Humming to himself, Thatch started to gather ingredients for breakfast from the pantry, before putting the kettle on to make coffee. He had missed cooking, as he hadn't been able to do it in his shadow form. Looking at the bracelet around his arm, he wondered if he should actively start to train his powers, or wait until his body had adjusted by itself.

There was a sound of glass shattering, and Thatch whipped around to face the kitchen door. The window was broken, a brick lying on the floor, but before Thatch could react, two figures jumped him. Struggling in their hold, Thatch tried to shake off the bracelet, but handcuffs made of seastone were clicked around his wrists, preventing him from shifting. The last thing he remembered was that the cloth pressed against his face smelled suspiciously of chloroform.

* * *

When he woke again, he had a pounding headache. He was tied to a table that painfully reminded him of a rack – no pun intended. He found himself in a dimly lit room, and it took a moment before his eyes had adjusted. The whole room reminded him of a torture chamber, so he wouldn't be surprised if he was actually put on a rack. He just couldn't turn his head far enough to see if there was a wheel attached to it.

What he didn't know was why he was here. It was definitely not the government that had taken him, at least he chose to believe that, because if it was, chance of him being found were slim to none. His chains were made of seastone, which was why he couldn't use his powers, so escaping was not an option.

Who else would be interested in him? He was a nobody, a former assistant of a kind of important guy, but the whole ordeal with Izo had taught him he knew nothing about his boss. And who would take him from Izo's house? Who could have known he was there?

Thatch could hear footsteps approach, and he had to crane his neck to see a large figure enter the room.

"Mr Marshall?!"

"Well, well, well. Long time no see." Mr Marshall came into the light, standing next to the table. "I'd have preferred to meet under different circumstances, but you really didn't leave me any choice."

Thatch gulped. "I-if you think you're gonna get Izo through me, you're wrong!"

Marshall looked slightly surprised for a moment, but then threw his head back in laughter. "You think I want _him_?! That pretty little painter thinks he's so important."

Thatch winced at the way Marshall spoke of Izo, and he squirmed to try to get his hands loose. "Then why the hell are you after him?!"

"I'm not, though." Marshall grinned, revealing a few missing teeth. "I'll admit, I could have made some money on the side if he painted me those pictures like he promised, and I don't like being told no, but in the end, I want you. And now I have you."

Thatch's eyes widened in fear.

"Well, not _you_, per se," Marshall clarified. "Your powers."

"My… powers?" Thatch stammered. "But how did you…?"

"Sometimes, papers are misplaced and go missing. Sometimes those papers are important and classified documents revealing the identity of devil's children." Marshall shrugged. "It happens."

Thatch's head was spinning with the new information. Teach had never been after Izo, he had been after Thatch the entire time! Izo had felt guilty for nothing, because Thatch was the one who Teach wanted. Because of his powers.

"It was easy enough to keep you close when you had no idea what kind of power your body contains," Marshall continued.

"Is that why you hired me?" Thatch asked.

"It wasn't because of your skills, if that's what you're asking." Marshall laughed again. "Though, you being able to cook is definitely a pro. Your pies are delicious." He licked his lips. "I sincerely hope you'll survive the procedure, so you can live to make more pies another day."

"S-survive?" Panicking, Thatch ripped at his chains.

"Why, of course. It would be a shame if you died. I like you, Thatch, I really do, so it is with a heavy heart I do this." He beckoned, and two lankies Thatch didn't recognise came forward with some kind of machine. "You see," Teach continued, "it's for the best. You can't control your powers, they're too much for you. So by extracting them from you, I'll only be doing you a favour."

Thatch could only stare up at him. Extract his powers? Was that even possible? Shanks had said the government was doing experiments to do that, but it wasn't possible yet, was it? How would Teach get his hands on that technology? And what would happen with Thatch?

"Think about it," Teach continued, "if you don't have powers anymore, you'll be able to open that restaurant you always dreamt of. Well, that is, if you survive. But then you'll be able to live a happy, normal life. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Thatch's shirt was torn open and several electrodes were stuck to his chest and back. He trashed about, trying to get away from the cold hands. The voltage was turned up and Thatch's body spasmed, pain shooting through every inch. As fast as it appeared, the pain disappeared again, leaving Thatch lying panting.

"That looked like it hurt," Teach said, his brows furrowed in mock-concern.

Thatch didn't reply.

"This was only a test, you see," Teach continued, "to see if the equipment works. So you'd better prepare yourself."

"Why do you even want my power?" Thatch asked, finally managing to open his eyes. "They're not that great."

"That's because you don't know how to control them." Teach shook his head. "You don't know half of what you're capable of. Hell, the government doesn't know half of what you're capable of. I… Well, I admit I don't understand your powers a hundred per cent, but at least I know more than you do. And they are amazing."

Thatch didn't reply and focused on blinking. His vision was hazy, but he wasn't even sure if he wanted to see what was happening. Another wave of pain passed through his body.

"Ironically," Teach continued, "I wouldn't have to put you through such a painful procedure if I already had your powers, as it is said that your power can absorb others. Of course, if I did have them, I wouldn't need to get them. Do you see where I'm going?"

His voice sounded strange and far away, and Thatch's ears were ringing. He was also pretty sure he had soiled himself, but he couldn't be sure, because his whole skin was tingling. At least Teach had shut up.

More pain passed through his body. He ripped at his bonds, clenching his jaw, though he wasn't sure that was voluntarily. Foam was at his mouth.

But this time, the pain didn't stop. Thatch trashed, trying to rip himself loose, to make it stop. He tried envisioning Izo's face to distract himself. Would he have noticed Thatch was gone? Of course he would, as there was no food. And his abductors had destroyed a window, he should notice that. Would he come to find Thatch? Would Marco? Would Ace?

* * *

Ace woke up with a gasp when the door of his appointed bedroom was slammed open. Next to him, he felt Marco move to cover them both up with a blanket, which was probably wise. Propping himself up on his elbows, Ace looked at their unwelcome guest.

Izo was standing in the doorway, wearing a bathrobe, his hair dishevelled and his face pale.

"What's wrong?" Ace asked, his sleepy brain finally catching up with the situation. Something was very wrong.

"They took him! They took Thatch!" Izo exclaimed.

"Who took him? How do you know?" Marco asked, sitting up as well.

Frustrated, Izo went with a hand through his messy hair. Ace had never seen him like this. Even when he wasn't wearing make-up, Izo always looked his best. "When I woke up, he was gone."

"Maybe he went to do groceries, or just for a walk," Ace suggested.

"And break a window while he's at it?!"

"Window?"

"The window of the kitchen door was smashed with a brick, and there were signs of a struggle." Izo sank in the chair that was standing in the corner of the room. "Who would do this? Who would take him?"

Vista and Pops appeared in the doorway, and Ace cursed his lack of clothes. He had hoped to repeat some of the actions of the previous night – the ones with Marco, not the breaking out of prisoners – when they woke up, but it didn't seem like that was happening. He was worried about Thatch, though.

Pops and Vista were still wearing their prison clothes, probably because Izo didn't have anything that fitted them. They were both big guys, especially Pops. Ace had already been impressed inside the prison, but out here, Pops looked like an actual giant.

"What's going on?" Vista asked. "Everything okay?"

"They took Thatch!" Izo exclaimed, looking like he was on the verge of tears.

"Do you think Marshall has anything to do with it?" Ace asked, grateful when Marco slipped him pants.

"Who else? He must have been watching the house after all. But why take him and not me?" Once again, Izo combed with a hand through his hair.

"Why is there someone after you?" Vista asked.

"This guy, Thatch's former boss, he wanted me to forge paintings for him," Izo explained briefly.

"Why?"

"Because I'm a forger," Izo all but snapped, but then he sighed and pointed at Marco. "And he is the Phoenix. Slash art thief, in case you were wondering."

Vista looked at Ace, who held up his hands defensively. "I'm just a journalist." He didn't know Vista well enough to tell him about his father.

"Perhaps they don't want you as much as you think," Pops said, sitting down with a groan on the bed that dipped, and Ace was glad he had been able to put on pants underneath the blanket in the meantime.

"What do you mean?" Izo asked confusedly. "He wanted me to forge paintings."

"I know," no one had the energy to ask how he knew, and perhaps Marco had just told him somehow, "but the power Thatch wields is well sought after. If this Marshall somehow found out he had them, perhaps that's why he is targeted."

Izo's eyes widened. "How?"

"I don't know, but if Shanks has managed to infiltrate the government lab, maybe he has as well. The most important thing is finding Thatch, though," Pops replied thoughtfully.

"What if the government has taken him?" Izo asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Then the answer remains the same, of course," Marco said confidently and rose from the bed. He placed a hand on Izo's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll find him."

"How? We have no idea where he is!"

A sudden thought struck Ace. "Oh, I know!" He raised his hand like he was in class. "He was wearing that bracelet, right? The seastone one that used to be an implant? And those are traceable, right?"

Izo squealed and ran over to him to hug him. "You're brilliant!"

"I know," Ace said proudly. Then he looked at Pops. "Shanks should know whose seastone it was, right?"

Pops hummed. "I'd think so. While we're at it, Marco, contact that doctor who removes implants. I'm sick of this thing." He rubbed at the bottom of his spine.

"Are you sure that's wise, Pops? If you can't control your powers when it's removed, we have a problem. People will feel the earthquakes and you're the epicentre of them, so it would only take a good seismograph to find you," Marco said.

Pops laughed and ruffled his hair, causing Marco to grin despite the situation. It was nice to see Marco happy like that, like a child. "Don't worry about me, son. I've had my powers for a long time. Fifteen years more or less won't matter."

Marco nodded. "Alright, Ace, let's get the doctor. Pops, I take it you know how to contact Shanks?"

"Of course." Pops placed a large hand on Izo's shoulder. "Don't worry, son. I didn't break out of prison to have my family taken from me again."

Ace could see the relief on Izo's face, as well as the happiness at the word family. Ace had to admit he felt the same. He believed Pops when he said he wasn't going to let anyone be taken from him. Plus, it was nice to have a family. He only had Luffy and Gramps until now, and neither he saw often.

"Come on, Ace," Marco said, startling him from his thoughts. "The sooner Pops has his powers back, the sooner he can help Thatch."

"Can't you just call?" Vista asked.

"This doctor doesn't have a phone, as far as I know, so he can't be tracked," Marco explained. "Because his procedures are far from legal."

"I see."

Ace hastened himself after Marco as he left the room. He really wanted to help Thatch, because he had no idea in what kind of trouble he was. If Pops was right and Marshall was after his powers, what would he do to Thatch? Devil's powers were part of you, right? So Marshall wouldn't be able to take them, but what else would he do? Force Thatch to do illegal things?

He slipped his hand in Marco's as they hastened themselves toward the city. As they stepped into a bus, Ace looked around. No one even remotely expected that they had broken out two prisoners from the maximum security prison the night before. To everyone else, they were just a couple like any other.

Ace sat down next to Marco, his leg bouncing up and down nervously.

Marco placed a hand on his thigh, though whether it was to reassure him, make him stop, or both, Ace didn't know. "It will be okay," he whispered.

"I'm worried about Thatch," Ace replied softly. "What do you think they'll do to him?"

Marco sighed. "It's no use to worry about that right now. Pops will contact Shanks, who will track him down. Then we'll get Teach."

The bus drove them almost out of the city before Marco indicated that they had to get off. Most houses around here needed to be painted. Ace remembered this being the neighbourhood where Marco had brought him when he was a child. Back then, he had definitely not expected to end up dating Marco.

His hand slipped into Marco's again. There were a lot of things he hadn't expected happening, which had in the end. Losing his powers, getting them back, gaining a new family by breaking people out of prison…

Marco squeezed his hand and smiled at him as they approached what appeared to be an abandoned house. The area they found themselves in was deserted, and the house was surrounded by unkempt bushes that obscured the view to the street.

Before they could reach the door, however, something – or rather, someone – jumped them. Ace hit the pavement face first and could barely roll aside in time before a pipe almost hit him in the head. "The hell?!" he exclaimed.

The man wielding the pipe stepped back, his weapon at the ready when Ace scrambled to his feet. "I could ask you the same," he grouched.

There was something about him that looked familiar to Ace, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He looked at the man. He was tall, with blond hair and a scar at his left eye. Next to him, Marco held his own against an orange haired woman who appeared to practice karate.

"Who the hell are you guys?!" Ace snapped. "And what are you doing here?!"

"Again, I could ask the same," the man retorted. "What do you want with the doctor?"

"What do _you _want with the doctor?" Ace countered. The pipe whizzed past his face and he could barely duck aside in time. However, it did give him an opening and he drilled his fist in the blond man's stomach. The man gasped and staggered.

"Sabo!" the woman exclaimed.

Ace froze. From the corner of his eye, he saw Marco turn as well, but he barely registered it.

All Ace could do was stare, his whole body trembling. "Sabo?" he whispered. The man – Sabo – recovered and attacked again, but stopped his pipe barely an inch from his face.

It fit, somehow. Sabo's body had never been recovered. It had been improbable that he had survived, though. Yet Ace could imagine that this was what Sabo would look like, if he had been alive. Which it seemed he was.

Sabo frowned as he looked at Ace. "Are you okay? I'm trying to kick your ass here, but I can't do that if you don't at least put up a fight."

"Sabo," Ace repeated.

"Quit saying my name! It's freaking me out! Come one, Koala, let's go." He turned to leave, but Ace grabbed his arm.

"Don't you remember me?" he asked. "It's me. Ace."

Sabo frowned again. "I think you're mistaking me for someone else. Let's go."

The woman, Koala, hesitated. "Are you sure you don't know him? He seems pretty insistent that he knows you. Maybe he is someone from your past?"

"I'd remember a guy who doesn't wear a shirt when it's freezing outside," Sabo huffed and tried to pry himself loose from Ace's grip. "We're leaving."

"Wait, I'll show you!" Ace held out his hand, from which flames sprouted.

Sabo's eyes widened and he took a step back. "W-What?" he stammered. "B-but…" His eyes flicked from the fire to Ace's face, and suddenly, recognition washed over his features. "Ace?"

Ace couldn't hold back anymore. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Sabo, who started bawling as well. "I thought you were dead!"

"I can't believe I forgot about you!"

Next to them, Marco coughed awkwardly and turned to Koala. "So… I'm Marco." He held out his hand.

She sighed. "Koala."

Ace let go of Sabo and wiped his cheeks. "Tell me, how did you survive? And where the hell have you been?"

Sabo sighed and lifted up his top hat to go with his hand through his hair. "It's a long story. Besides, you should tell me how you got your powers back. I thought you had an implant!"

Ace smiled sheepishly. "It's a long story."

"We don't really have time for that now," Marco interrupted them. "Ace, I'm really happy for you, but we need to hurry if we want to help Thatch."

"You're right."

"Why do you need the doctor?" Sabo asked.

"To remove Pops' implant. He removed mine as well, by the way."

"I guess that makes sense," Sabo said musing. "Wait, Pops?"

"Again, long story."

"At least tell me the short story, so I know _something_," Sabo insisted.

"Okay, basically, I broke his dad," Ace nodded at Marco, "who has an implant, out of Impel Down, and now my friend is kidnapped by a crazy man."

Sabo nodded, his lips pursed. "I'm going to need the long version sometime soon. But I guess you're in a hurry."

"We are," Ace said. "Wait, why are you here?"

"To keep an eye on the doctor," Sabo said. "We don't want government agencies to get their hands on him."

"So, you're his bodyguards?" Ace asked. "Who are you, anyway?"

Sabo grinned. "I'll tell you later." He walked to the house and pounded on the door.

Law opened it with a bored look on his face. "I was wondering if I should call the police, because two crazy guys were fighting on my lawn."

"Well, no need." Ace grabbed his arm and pulled him outside. "Let's go!"

Law started to protest, but eventually he gave up – he was used to Luffy, after all. Sabo and Koala followed them. They probably looked like just a group of friends heading into town to the other people on the bus. It was hardly the place to talk, but still Ace tried to tell Sabo as much as possible about his life without going into the illegal stuff. He also talked about Luffy, whom Sabo had only known briefly, but still loved dearly. They really looked like old friends catching up, which they were, of course.

Ace remembered mentioning Sabo to Marco, and before that, even pretending to be him, but he had never gone into details. As soon as they had time alone, he would tell Marco everything.

* * *

Marco had not expected instead of just Law, to be accompanied by Ace's long lost and presumed dead brother and his friend, yet here they were. Ace was so happy, though, it warmed Marco's heart. Marco had assumed Sabo had died before Ace received his implant, but it seemed like he was mistaken there.

He had so many questions, but now wasn't the time to ask them. In the bus, they were surrounded by people who could turn them in if they got wind of what they were up to, and once they reached Izo's house, they had to focus on rescuing Thatch. If there was any rescuing left to do, Marco thought bitterly. Seeing that Teach had sent armed goons and had taken Thatch by force, Marco wouldn't put murder past him.

"Hello, gorgeous," Shanks greeted them when they entered Izo's house again. He was slumped in an arm chair.

"Which one of us are you referring to?" Ace asked, slightly confused.

"Take your pick. Oh, fresh meat." Shanks rose from his chair and looked at Koala and Sabo.

"This is my brother, Sabo," Ace said proudly. "I thought he was dead, but he isn't!" The last part was a bit redundant, but Ace was beaming so brightly that Marco melted a little.

"Hello, sons," Pops' warm voice sounded, and Ace immediately turned to him to introduce Sabo to him. He was so excited that he forgot about Koala and Law, so Marco took it on himself to introduce them to those who hadn't met them yet.

"Speaking of brothers…" Izo held up a paper, handing it to Ace. He was dressed and had make-up on, looking like the famous painter Marco was familiar with. Yet somehow, he made the make-up look more like war paint. "I thought you should see this."

On the front page of the paper, a picture of a black haired boy was printed, with a bounty underneath.

"He did say he was taking on the government," Ace said, grinning like a proud older brother. Marco didn't have the chance to read the article underneath, explaining what happened, when Ace handed the paper to Sabo.

"That's Luffy now?" Sabo asked. "He hasn't changed a bit!"

"He's gotten taller, but other than that, nope." Ace grinned again. "He'll be so happy to see you again!"

"I can't wait to see him either!" Sabo's expression mirrored Ace's.

"Not to ruin the moment," Izo interrupted, and, in fact, ruined the moment, "but there is something a little more important we have to do first."

"Save your friend, right?" Sabo said. "We'll help!"

Izo seemed to be taken aback at that. "Really?"

"Of course! A friend of Ace's is a friend of mine. And Koala will let herself get dragged along, won't you?" He grinned at Koala. She sighed deeply, but didn't say anything to the contrary.

"Have you found a way to track Thatch?" Ace asked Shanks.

"Naturally! That's why I brought my best nerd." With a smirk, he gestured to someone n who was sitting at the coffee table with a laptop. Marco hadn't noticed Yasopp before.

"I will punch you," Yasopp said deadpanned, not even looking up from his keyboard.

"So whose seastone is Thatch wearing?" Ace asked curiously after briefly explaining to Sabo what was going on.

"Surprisingly, Luffy's," Shanks said, a grin on his face. "He's a good kid."

"You met him?" Sabo asked, sounding slightly jealous.

Shanks shrugged. "I said I would, didn't I? I mean, you don't know that, because you weren't there, but I did. Ask Ace. Anyway, while he's off saving the world, you should focus on saving Thatch."

"What is the plan anyway? After Shanks' ner– I mean, after Yasopp has found Thatch's location?" Ace hastily corrected himself after a deadly look from Yasopp. "Like we did when rescuing Pops?"

Marco pursed his lips. "He might expect me and Izo, but he probably won't expect you and Sabo. Nor Pops and Vista."

"So we can go ahead and beat the crap out of him," Ace said a little too pleased, punching his fist into the palm of his other hand. "Wait, where is Pops anyway?"

"Law is gone too, so I'd say they went ahead with the operation." Marco looked over his shoulder to where the two would have disappeared to. He considered looking for them, but rejected that thought. Pops was strong, and if there were any complications, Law would warn them. He turned back to the others.

"Well, while we wait, why don't you tell us how this happy reunion came to be?" Shanks asked, sitting down a little too close to Sabo on the couch.

Sabo moved over a bit so he was sitting closer to Ace. "Alright," he said. "I'm not sure how much Ace has told you–"

"Nothing," Izo said, sounding a little hurt. Marco supposed he would have liked to know at least of the existence of Sabo. Ace looked guiltily to the floor.

"Anyway," Sabo hastily said, "when I was a kid, I was in an accident–"

"Accident?! You were freaking blown up!" Ace interrupted him, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat.

Sabo looked at him deadpanned. "Well, yeah. _By accident_." When he saw raised eyebrows all around him, he continued, "My parents… I hate them, basically. I tried to get away by stealing a boat, but there was something wrong with the gas tank. One spark and…" He mimicked an explosion.

"Yes, I know that. And you were supposed to be dead." Now it was Ace's turn to sound accusingly.

"Well, excuse me," Sabo said with a snort. "I didn't ask to get rescued."

"Then who rescued you?!"

Sabo's lips curled into a smile. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Ace looked like he was about to explode himself, so Marco placed a hand on his leg. It seemed to calm him down a bit.

"It was Dragon," Sabo finally said.

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Ace asked, a pensive look on his face. "I think Luffy's dad is called… No way!" He slapped Sabo against his shoulder.

Sabo grinned. "Told you. He's the leader of the Revolutionaries."

Marco hummed, and Ace turned to him.

"You know of them?"

"I've heard stories," Marco replied. "To put it simply, they oppose the government."

"Very simply," Sabo said with a grin.

"Speaking of, I should contact head quarters that we'll be late if we're going to help find your brother's friend," Koala said, rising from her seat.

"Didn't you do that already?" Sabo asked, sounding bored.

Koala looked incredibly annoyed – Marco doubted this was the first time this had happened – and grabbed him by the cheek in what appeared to be a painful manner. "I'm only doing it because you won't! It's _your _job!"

"I'mw twelling a stwowy!"

Koala sighed deeply and let go of his cheek. "Fine. Izo, could I please use your phone?"

"Why don't I help you with that?" Shanks asked, standing up.

"Why don't you stay here," Marco said deadpanned.

Shanks pouted, but did sit down. "There are many gorgeous people in this room and I've done way too little of them," he muttered.

"So why did you never contact us?" Ace said, steering back to the topic. He sounded a little hurt now, and Marco squeezed his leg again.

Sabo looked at the floor, rubbing his sore cheek. "I didn't remember you until today," he admitted. "I-I don't know how I could have forgotten, but…" He trailed off, and Ace wrapped his arms around him.

"So what about you?" Sabo asked. "Last time I saw you, you didn't have your powers and didn't seem to want them back, no matter what Luffy said."

"Well," Ace started, letting go of Sabo and sitting up, "remember I told you about the Phoenix?"

"Of course. At first you wanted to be him and then you wanted to see him caught."

Ace cleared his throat, his cheeks slightly red after that first revelation. Marco had to smirk.

"Well…" Ace finally said and looked at Marco. He briefly turned his arms into wings.

"No way!" Sabo exclaimed. "You're dating the Phoenix?!"

Ace shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "He kinda convinced me to have the implant removed."

"It was your decision," Marco said. He may have played a major role in that decision, but in the end, it was Ace who cut the knot.

Sabo shook his head. "Well, I'm glad he did. You weren't the same without your powers."

He had barely finished his sentence when suddenly, the whole house started to shake. Ace grabbed onto Marco, who didn't mind that at all, and Sabo exclaimed, "What the hell was that?!"

Marco grinned. "Seems like Pops just got his powers back."

"Just in time," Yasopp said, just as Izo entered the room again. "I found your friend's location."

"Where?!" Izo exclaimed, jumping Yasopp and giving him a shaking when he didn't reply fast enough.

"I-in an abandoned factory at the edge of town." Yasopp pointed at his computer screen.

Izo let go of his shirt and straightened. His eyes dark and his jaw set, he looked very determined. Marco almost felt sorry for Teach. By the looks of it, Izo would show no mercy.

* * *

Izo kicked in the accelerator pedal completely, while Ace held on tight next to him in the passenger seat, as well as Koala and Sabo in the backseat, no doubt. Izo's eyes flicked to the rear view mirror, but he barely had time to look before he had swerve out to prevent a clash with another vehicle.

"Do you really need to go this fast, Izo?" Ace asked him. "You're driving worse than Roo!"

"Are you asking me to make Thatch wait any longer?" Izo snapped, more fiercely than he intended, but he couldn't help it. He was too worried.

"If you get pulled over by the police, Thatch will have to wait even longer," Koala piped up as the voice of reason.

She was right, and he knew it. With a sigh, he slowed down the car.

Izo, along with his companions, had decided to go ahead and find Thatch as soon as Yasopp had found his location. Marco, Vista and Pops would follow later once Pops had rested a bit. Shanks and Yasopp wouldn't join their mission, as they had business elsewhere, as had Law. It was too bad, but Izo didn't think they needed their help anyway. He would charge in alone if necessary.

He was, however, very grateful that Sabo had decided to join them and had dragged Koala with him. From what he had understood from Marco's story about the Revolutionaries, they were very strong, but could also be very stealthy if necessary. Both skill sets would come in very handy.

They hadn't really talked about a plan, but Izo wasn't in the mood to tread carefully, and Ace was more a man of action as well. They would be okay. They would find Thatch.

Izo pulled up behind an empty building on the factory grounds. Yasopp had pointed out in which building Thatch was held, but Izo had the presence of mind not to announce them. They would use the element of surprise to their advantage.

Izo undid his seatbelt that he didn't remember putting on and stepped out of the car, followed by the others. They peered around the corner of the building to the actual factory where Thatch should be. Izo took a deep breath when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Koala's brows were furrowed worriedly. It was touching how much she seemed to care despite knowing him so briefly. He was sure they could become great friends once this was over.

He managed a weak smile before turning back to the factory, feeling at the gun in his belt absentmindedly. Shanks had given it to him, saying suggestively he should always use protection. The gun was loaded with seastone bullets, but it only had six shots. Shanks had offered weapons to the others as well, but Sabo and Koala had refused, saying they didn't need it. Ace had his powers, of course, so he could defend himself as well.

"Are you ready?" Ace whispered.

They all nodded. As one, they charged ahead, making almost no sound. Ace took out the first guard with a well-aimed fist to the jaw. Koala took out another, who went down soundlessly. It was clear both she and Sabo had done similar missions before, so Izo didn't complain when Sabo gestured for him to go with Koala. He wasn't surprised that Sabo went with Ace, nor did he mind.

He followed Koala as she ran in the opposite direction as Sabo to the side of the factory. At the corner, she pressed herself up against the wall and peered around it. Izo hid himself behind her.

After a while, Koala gestured him to follow her. Izo gripped the handle of the gun tighter. He really hoped he didn't have to use it, but he knew he would if it would save Thatch.

They snuck along the wall of the factory. There were crates stacked up next to an entrance, behind which they hid. People were carrying things inside and outside, so there was no way they could sneak past, unnoticed.

"I don't know if I can take them all out," Koala whispered. "Well, I _can_, but not before they sound an alarm. It's just a matter of time before Sabo and Ace do something stupid–"

There was a loud explosion, and Koala sighed, rubbing her temples. "I shouldn't have let them go alone," she muttered, more to herself than Izo. "I'd hoped Ace would be the responsible one."

Izo snorted.

She sighed again. "I was afraid of that. Well, they did cause a distraction. Listen," she continued, stopping Izo from going inside, "your first priority has to be to find Thatch, okay? I've seen how much you care about him. Don't go after Teach."

Izo nodded. On the one hand, he wanted to hurt Teach so much, for everything he had put them through, but on the other, he wanted to see Thatch again. Yes, Thatch definitely had his priority.

Koala peered around the crates. The workers had dropped their things to go see where the explosion had come from, and the site before them was now abandoned. Koala gave a signal, and Izo passed her, running towards the entrance. Koala was next to him in a heartbeat, but soon enough left his side again when one of Teach's lankies came their way. She quickly made work of him using what looked to Izo like karate moves, but as soon as the first was down, a second appeared.

"Go!" she called over his shoulder, and Izo started running again.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw movements, and when he turned his head, he saw Sabo and Ace in the middle of the factory floor, fighting Teach. Ace sent fire his way, but instead of diving for cover like a sane human being would do, Teach stood his ground.

Darkness suddenly enveloped him, and Izo's eyes widened in horror. Those were… those were Thatch's powers!

Suddenly, his legs didn't listen to him anymore and he stood rooted to the ground. It felt like an icy hand had wrapped around his heart. If Teach had Thatch's powers, he must have taken them somehow. What would have happened to Thatch? Would he have survived the procedure? Or was Izo too late?

"Izo!" Koala yelled, kicking an enemy in the groin, and Izo managed to shake himself from his devastating thoughts. He shouldn't be wondering about the possibilities. He would only believe he couldn't help Thatch anymore if he saw it with his own eyes.

Unfortunately, Koala's call had drawn attention to the both of them. Teach turned towards him, and suddenly, darkness surrounded Izo. However, Ace intervened and sent more flames Teach's way. When he was momentarily distracted, Sabo swung his pipe and hit Teach on his ugly head, so the tip had to be made of seastone.

The darkness disappeared from around Izo and he started to run again, away from the fight. He didn't know where exactly Thatch was, or at least the bracelet he had been wearing, but it had to be somewhere in the northeast corner. His only concern was to get there. He trusted his companions to keep Teach's goons away from him.

He made his way through the factory in the direction where he hoped he would find Thatch, trying not to imagine in what state he might find him. How was it even possible to steal someone's powers? Did the government find a way and did Teach stole the technology? For some reason, Izo hoped that Teach had invented the method himself. If this kind of technology fell into the hands of the government, who knew how many people would lose their powers, and whom they would be given to?

Izo shook his head to get rid of the thoughts. He needed to concentrate on his mission. He turned another corner, running through a long hallway. He opened some random doors, but most rooms turned out to be storage space that only contained crates and boxes.

He reached the end of the hallway and placed his hand on the doorknob of the last door. If Thatch wasn't here, he would have to go all the way back and look somewhere else. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

The first thing he saw was some kind of weird machine of which he didn't want to know what it did. The room, made of grey stone, reminded him of a medieval dungeon and it gave him the creeps. Suddenly, he hoped Thatch wasn't here.

In the middle of the room, there was something that almost looked like a rack. Izo gasped when he saw there was someone strapped to it, head lulled to the other side.

Izo closed his eyes and swallowed, but he had already recognised Thatch. They had tortured him for his powers! Powers he hadn't wanted in the first place.

Izo opened his eyes and approached the rack. Thatch was lying awfully still, his face covered in bruises. It seems there had been electrodes strapped to his head and chest, judging by his open shirt. With trembling fingers, Izo caressed his face. Thatch didn't respond.

Biting back his tears, Izo started to unfasten the bands around Thatch's wrists and ankles, wondering briefly how he would get Thatch out of here. Deciding to worry about that later, he felt for Thatch's pulse. It was there, but very faint.

"See you found your boyfriend."

Izo whipped around upon hearing that voice, holding on to the rack for support. Teach had appeared in the room through a door Izo hadn't noticed before. Sabo and Ace where nowhere to be seen, and Izo feared the worst.

His hand slid to his belt and gripped the holster of his gun, before drawing it and aiming it at Teach.

Teach held up his hand, but his face was mocking. "Careful where you point that thing. You could hurt someone with it. And it won't be me."

"You sure about that?" Izo bit back and cocked the gun. "It's loaded with seastone bullets."

Teach paled a little, which was a satisfying feat in itself. "So that redhaired jackass intervened, eh?"

"He did. And he was _very_ helpful," Izo replied. "Now you tell me what you did to Thatch."

An unsettling smirk appeared on Teach's face, revealing he was missing a tooth. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Izo grit his teeth and planted his feet firm on the ground as he aimed the barrel of the gun. "Bastard!"

Before he could decide if he was really going to pull the trigger, though, he felt something touch his back gently. Overcome with joy, he turned to Thatch.

Thatch's eyes were open, but it looked like it cost him much effort. "Don't," he whispered. "He's not worth it."

Izo was about to retort, but Thatch squeezed his hand, and the words died on Izo's tongue.

Teach started to laugh. "I knew it! You're all weaklings, the lot of ya!"

Suddenly, the floor started to tremble violently. Izo heaved a sigh in relief as Teach paled for real now. One of the doors was knocked down, revealing the enormous frame of Pops.

"What did you do to my son?!" his voice boomed, causing the room to tremble once more.

The window shattered and a deafening shriek sounded as Marco flew in in bird-shape. He landed and transformed back, facing Teach as he stood between him and Izo. Teach paled even more.

"Let's go," Vista's voice sounded, and when Izo turned, he suddenly saw him standing on the other side of the rack.

"But–" Izo started to protest, but Vista shook his head and grabbed Thatch under his armpits.

"Take his legs."

Izo ceased his protest and did as he was told. He didn't dare to look back. He could only hope that Ace and Sabo were okay, and that Pops and Marco took care of Teach. What exactly that would entail, he didn't know, though he was glad Thatch had stopped him from pulling the trigger. It would have haunted him forever.

They placed Thatch, who had passed out again, in the backseat of Izo's car, and Vista took a seat behind the wheel.

"I'm glad you came in time," Izo said from the passenger seat, caressing Thatch's hand lovingly.

"Seems like we did," Vista agreed, plucking at his moustache. "How is he?" He nodded his head to the backseat.

"Alive, that's all I know for sure," Izo said softly.

Vista hummed. "Let's keep it that way. We need a doctor, and fast."

Izo turned back to Thatch, his brows furrowed worriedly. He had no idea if Thatch was going to be okay, or if Teach had merely copied or actually stolen his powers. Izo just wished it could be like before, when he had been painting Thatch and they had fallen in love. Now he couldn't even be sure if Thatch would ever open his eyes again.

* * *

Something cold was placed on his forehead, and Thatch enjoyed the feeling. He was hot, so hot. Why was he covered in blankets? It was too warm. He kicked them away, annoyed when they were put back. Maybe it was time to open his eyes.

The first thing he saw, albeit a little blurry, was Izo's beautiful face. Thatch wanted to lift up his hand to touch his face, but suddenly he noticed how every part of his body hurt intensely. Panting, he gave up.

Izo caressed his face, his hand that was resting on Thatch's forehead nice and cold. The make-up on his face made it impossible to read his mood. He was smiling, but only faintly.

Thatch tried to remember what caused him to lie here, because he was pretty sure this wasn't Izo's bed in his mansion. And why did his body hurt so much? Flashes of memories came back to him. Him being tied to a table. Teach looming over him. Izo holding a gun aimed at Teach.

"Did you do it?" he muttered, pushing the blanket away again. "Did you pull the trigger?" His voice slurred more than he would like.

Izo placed the blanket back over Thatch. "I did not. You didn't want me to, remember?"

Thatch hummed, though to be honest, he did not remember, but it did sound like something he would say. "Where are we?"

"Safe, for now. Do you remember what happened to you?"

Thatch frowned, trying to recall the events leading up to him lying here. They had gotten Pops and Vista out of prison. Then they went back to Izo's house to rest, where he had gone to bed with Izo. Despite the pain, Thatch felt a smirk creeping up his face, though he realised that remembering Izo's naked body against his was probably not how he ended up here.

They had gone to sleep, but Thatch had woken up early and gotten out of bed. Why again? Right, to make breakfast. But he had never gotten that far because… Because he was suddenly grabbed and kidnapped. That explained the nightmares he had had about Teach. They hadn't been mere dreams; it had been real! He had been tortured! That also explained the pain he felt. By why did they torture him?

His head hurt and he groaned.

Izo caressed his face. "Teach invented a machine that was able to take your powers away and give them to Teach. I'm so sorry, Thatch."

"You mean… I lost my powers?" Thatch asked confusedly. He looked at his hands as if they could give him confirmation.

Izo nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line. "The doctor checked. You have no powers left."

Thatch looked up at him. The blurriness of his vision finally seemed to clear and he could see the anger in Izo's eyes. Gently, Thatch took his hand, ignoring the pain. "It's okay. I never wanted them anyway." He sighed and closed his eyes, overcome by tiredness. "I just don't think that they should be in _his_ hands."

"We took care of that," Izo said firmly. "Law gave him an implant and we left him with the government to lock him up. He won't be able to use his powers for evil."

Thatch nodded without opening his eyes. That was good news. At least there was a happy ending after all.

He wasn't sure how long he had slept, but when he opened his eyes again, he was once again lying on a different bed. The bed was located in a tiny room he didn't recognise.

He yawned. At least his body didn't hurt as much anymore. What was a little worrisome, though, was that Izo wasn't sitting by his side.

Deciding to go find him, Thatch sat up on the bed, wondering if that IV had been there when he woke up the first time. He hadn't noticed it anyway.

Using the stand to pull himself up, Thatch made his way to the door. He still must be not completely well, as the floor seemed to rock gently under his feet. Opening the door, he found himself in a long hallway with several similar doors attached to it. He wondered if he would find his way back.

He opened a few doors, only to find similar rooms as he just left. Izo wasn't there, so Thatch decided to see where the hall would take him. It ended in yet another door. As he opened it, he was hit by a powerful gust of wind and the smell of the ocean. Seagulls screamed around him.

Walking forward, Thatch gripped the stand of the IV firmer as it slowly dawned upon him where he was. He hastened himself to the railing to confirm his suspicion.

He was on a ship. In the middle of the ocean. There was water as far as the eye could see. Swallowing hard, Thatch hastened himself to the other side of the deck, where he was met with the same sight.

Wide-eyed, he stared into the distance, holding on tightly to the railing. What was going on? Where was he?

"You're up."

Thatch instantly relaxed when he heard Marco's voice and turned around. "Where am I? Why are we at sea?"

Marco grinned and next to him, Pops did the same. "Welcome to the Moby Dick."

"How long have I been out?"

"About a week," Marco replied.

Thatch blinked as he suddenly saw other people walking around the deck, doing chores. "Who are they?"

"The crew," Marco said calmly and looked over his shoulder. "Pops helped each and every one of them, like he did you and me. When they heard that, they immediately dropped everything to come with us. This is Blenheim," Marco continued when a man with a long grey beard passed. The man, Blenheim, saluted, before continuing to carry the box he was holding to its assigned location.

"I worked in his animal shelter," Marco said. "Neither of us had any idea Pops had chosen us for his sons. So when we were in trouble, Blenheim made sure that all the animals were cared for and came with us."

A huge dog – which looked more like a small polar bear – came running up to them and jumped at Thatch, almost pushing him over the railing.

"Down, Stefan," Marco said, and the dog obeyed, walking over to Pops to be scratched behind his ear.

"Stefan is one of the dogs from the animal shelter," Marco explained. "He reminded me so much of Pops, I had to get him for him."

Thatch had a hard time grasping all this new information, as it didn't seem to make sense at all. "But _why _are we on a boat?" he finally managed. "Izo said… Izo said everything was fine. I thought we all could just go home."

Marco's face darkened. "So did we. We thought Teach would rot in the cell that he put Pops in. It turned out he betrayed Pops' location all these years ago," he explained when seeing Thatch confused face. "Anyway, he somehow convinced the government to drop the charges, probably by selling them his technology. Now he is an ally of the government, calling himself a warlord. He can basically do as he please. And the worst thing is that they removed his implant."

Thatch blinked. He needed to sit down to digest this information. Why couldn't things just go back to normal? Why couldn't he just open his restaurant and live happily ever after with Izo?

"So," he swallowed a few times to get rid of his dry throat, "so what do we do now?"

An unsettling grin appeared on Marco's face. "We're going to take down the government."

Thatch's jaw dropped.

"They can't touch us here, because we're in international waters. Here we gather our allies and prepare for battle."

"Allies?" Thatch asked.

"We already have a few, like Ace's brother and Shanks. More will join us later."

Thatch shook his head. Everything was spinning, and he staggered.

"Thatch!"

Izo's voice seemed to come from far away, yet there were strong hands holding him up.

"Let's get you a chair."

Thatch let himself be moved inside what he thought was the canteen, before he was put down on a surprisingly comfortable couch. Izo took a seat across from him, holding his hands.

"Are you okay?"

Thatch blinked a few times until the black spots dancing before his eyes vanished and took the glass of water offered to him gratefully.

Marco and Pops had followed them inside. The latter took a seat next to Thatch, causing the couch to creak dangerously, especially when Stefan jumped in his lap. Pops placed a hand on Thatch's back.

"It must be a lot to take in at once, son," he said gently.

Thatch nodded and took a few deep breaths. "I think I'm okay now."

"Good." Pops smiled pleased.

"Okay, so we're going to war with the government," Thatch said. "So we're pirates now?"

Marco smirked. "Sounds good to me."

"Wait," Thatch suddenly said as he looked around. "Where is Ace?"

"He and Sabo got hurt while fighting Teach," Izo said grimly. "He's at the infirmary, recovering."

Thatch nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt that Ace got hurt because of him. Still, knowing that Ace would be okay or Marco wouldn't be standing here, Thatch couldn't focus on that now. Somehow, he had gone from being a wealthy businessman's assistant to a pirate in a few weeks' time. Not only that, they had declared war on the government. He had gained powers and lost them again just as quick.

However, the longer he thought about it, the more he realised he was okay with all that. He had never wanted his powers in the first place, but he had also never been too fond of the government. The most important thing was that he was here with his friends and lover, or rather brothers, and Pops, whom he assumed would take the roll of captain.

As he looked around, he realised that while his dream had always been to open his own restaurant, taking over the kitchen on a large ship was just as good, as long as he could make large amounts of people happy with his cooking. Once this was all over, he could always think about a restaurant again.

Izo and Marco exchanged looks when they saw him smiling broadly despite the situation, but Thatch felt weirdly at peace. "Thanks for saving me," he said suddenly.

Izo blinked, looking taken aback. "You're welcome," he stammered.

Rising from his seat, Thatch turned to go look for the infirmary. After all, he owed Ace a huge thanks for helping to save him too.


End file.
